Hang on, i hear them say
as i lie on my own puddle of thoughtvomit,
eyes deadstraight
cheek kissing the ground
wiry weary locks swirling around,
flattened by the gravity of nothing.
At this moment, I am unmoving, unlike the world.
Unmoved, unlike myself.
Overwhelmed by senses of nonsensical proportions
in thought and from touch (always too little or too much);
for being blue yet well-burnt
for being infected yet disaffected,
I wish these unwanted emotions would stop mutating.
I am getting too old to see my reflection
post self-contamination and exposure to dangerous fumes of my own virtual reality,
constantly questioning my own sanity when illusions can be truth in its own concealed crumpled convoluted way.
Perhaps this attraction to hypothetical flames
is a way to douse my own nightmares of having been burnt one too many times.
Floating around in circles or among them
Up down left right everywhere nowhere
in a daze
in a maze
it's all a haze at this point
against the backdrop of wonder and wakeful gratefulness
paved with mysterious tracks of apparent randomness.
Or maybe these are merely excuses.
Because I do find peace sometimes.
But just as tears from the past turn into scabs and scars and signs of having lived, the too-familiar cloaks of safety and in denial compresses who and what we are, and the invaluable invisible packets of what's left of life's lessons of what we learn of what we are and should become; that we know we aren't or shouldn't be, are lasered onto my headspace
From snottynosed days where nothing is left untouched
To flushed cheeks where my heart is more than parched
So I heave my body up from the gravel
wheezing dirt and scraping my fists as my voice finally breaks
-- Save me.
One day you will be free
Hold on grab on come on get up
Youcandothis
wash your grimy mask
and plaster on a grin
Fake it till you make it, as they say
Keep swimming in salty tears
Embrace the pouring rain
and rest assured that one day you will be free
but for now
Hang on.
2018-10-17
- originally from 2017-09-04
156: S _ I N _
kopiah aurat cover semua
kaki cam confirm dah cecah syurga
konon genggam tali yang kuat
kumat-kamit macam nak kiamat:
"tiada paksaan dalam islam"
"Tuhan maha tahu, dia tak kejam"
tapi bila kau hilang sabar
terus tanduk kau keluar,
tiba-tiba bahasa cam jahanam
"TAKKAN TU PUN KAU TAK PAHAM?"
kalau ini la maksud kau 'kemanisan iman',
terima kasih je la -- baik takyah layan.
2018-07-02
9.05pm
kaki cam confirm dah cecah syurga
konon genggam tali yang kuat
kumat-kamit macam nak kiamat:
"tiada paksaan dalam islam"
"Tuhan maha tahu, dia tak kejam"
tapi bila kau hilang sabar
terus tanduk kau keluar,
tiba-tiba bahasa cam jahanam
"TAKKAN TU PUN KAU TAK PAHAM?"
kalau ini la maksud kau 'kemanisan iman',
terima kasih je la -- baik takyah layan.
2018-07-02
9.05pm
155: no god, but, god.
after ramming through our door,
you announce to the world that you come in peace
to carry out your godly mission
of serving thick slices of humble pie
with chunky pieces of cherry-picked facts and fictions,
a pinch of salt, &
a fistful of irony
to save our souls.
how about
no
you announce to the world that you come in peace
to carry out your godly mission
of serving thick slices of humble pie
with chunky pieces of cherry-picked facts and fictions,
a pinch of salt, &
a fistful of irony
to save our souls.
how about
no
154: topless
i may seem
like a bottomless well of forgiveness,
but it's only because
the walls keep going up
with broken pieces of me
every time i fall
the water keeps rising
with tears emptied out of me,
in no time at all
like a bottomless well of forgiveness,
but it's only because
the walls keep going up
with broken pieces of me
every time i fall
the water keeps rising
with tears emptied out of me,
in no time at all
153: Sleaze and Dank You!
3 decades old
and for every marriage and birth
i am reminded by obviously well-meaning people
that i am still behind;
that my value is depleting
with my sagging skin
with the layers of my chin
with the lines around my grin
with my shape being far from thin
as my breasts reach my shin
as my wrinkles keep on growing
and endless other things
i should apparently be fussing about.
after all,
travelling solo
and buying your own car
and living in foreign lands
and collecting awards and degrees
and having contacts all over the world
and working your ass of to pay off your loans
and struggling against all kinds of inner demons
and still breathing somehow
are not achievements for women to be proud about
when nobody wants you.
(haven't you heard, doll?
the age of your womb matters more
than the maturity of your brain.)
some friends say they miss their innocence when they were younger
but i am thankful of my decreasing ignorance
as i acquire firsthand pains and secondhand lessons
while bearing witness to my messups and glowups
that no one else had the privillege to observe,
and yet, i am still told
that my eyes are too cold;
that my 'resting bitch face' will only scare people away
but isn’t it an oxymoron?
because bitches are babes in total control of herself
and you can't be you're in charge if you're 'resting'
but at the end of the day, let's be real:
being unfazed while returning men's gaze isn't just a phase
it's a stance and a form of resistance
because masculinity is so damn fragile
so stop telling me to fucking smile.
2018-12-03 8.49pm
and for every marriage and birth
i am reminded by obviously well-meaning people
that i am still behind;
that my value is depleting
with my sagging skin
with the layers of my chin
with the lines around my grin
with my shape being far from thin
as my breasts reach my shin
as my wrinkles keep on growing
and endless other things
i should apparently be fussing about.
after all,
travelling solo
and buying your own car
and living in foreign lands
and collecting awards and degrees
and having contacts all over the world
and working your ass of to pay off your loans
and struggling against all kinds of inner demons
and still breathing somehow
are not achievements for women to be proud about
when nobody wants you.
(haven't you heard, doll?
the age of your womb matters more
than the maturity of your brain.)
some friends say they miss their innocence when they were younger
but i am thankful of my decreasing ignorance
as i acquire firsthand pains and secondhand lessons
while bearing witness to my messups and glowups
that no one else had the privillege to observe,
and yet, i am still told
that my eyes are too cold;
that my 'resting bitch face' will only scare people away
but isn’t it an oxymoron?
because bitches are babes in total control of herself
and you can't be you're in charge if you're 'resting'
but at the end of the day, let's be real:
being unfazed while returning men's gaze isn't just a phase
it's a stance and a form of resistance
because masculinity is so damn fragile
so stop telling me to fucking smile.
2018-12-03 8.49pm
152: thoughts and players
1.
my thirsty lips
brushing against
your lazy smile,
2.
whispering sweet nothings
while running the tip of my tongue
along the ridge of your ears,
slowly nibbling each lobe
as you silently beg
for more,
3.
your sweetsalty skin
and heavy scent
as i leave a trail
of sloppy kisses
down the side
of your neck,
4.
your collarbones
grazed
red
moist,
5.
drawing circles
on your chest
and blowing on each peak
as you quiver under me
ever so slightly,
6.
my hands
twirling your curls
cupping your cheeks
squeezing your shoulders
holding you
down,
7.
your heartbeats
and the constant cycles of
sighs and gasps
as we dip in and out
of blissful insanity,
8.
breathing you in
and kissing your temples
as your trembling pillars stabilise
leaving my throbbing altar
witness my spiritual supplication
through closed eyes
and needy moans,
9.
watching you
rise and fall
as you drift off into another world
leaving me
for the nth time
undone,
10.
knowing
that i can finally breathe easy
now that you
are no longer
in my prayers.
2019-04-12 5.38pm
my thirsty lips
brushing against
your lazy smile,
2.
whispering sweet nothings
while running the tip of my tongue
along the ridge of your ears,
slowly nibbling each lobe
as you silently beg
for more,
3.
your sweetsalty skin
and heavy scent
as i leave a trail
of sloppy kisses
down the side
of your neck,
4.
your collarbones
grazed
red
moist,
5.
drawing circles
on your chest
and blowing on each peak
as you quiver under me
ever so slightly,
6.
my hands
twirling your curls
cupping your cheeks
squeezing your shoulders
holding you
down,
7.
your heartbeats
and the constant cycles of
sighs and gasps
as we dip in and out
of blissful insanity,
8.
breathing you in
and kissing your temples
as your trembling pillars stabilise
leaving my throbbing altar
witness my spiritual supplication
through closed eyes
and needy moans,
9.
watching you
rise and fall
as you drift off into another world
leaving me
for the nth time
undone,
10.
knowing
that i can finally breathe easy
now that you
are no longer
in my prayers.
2019-04-12 5.38pm
151: Qu Penat
They say,
'Beauty is in the eye of the beholder'
but
'Beauty is in the eye of the beholder'
but
I’m constantly reminded
that those who are darker
that those who are darker
are still made to remain in the shadows,
that some browns are more beautiful than others.
I’m getting tired of all this obsessing
over mothers not trying
I keep on wondering
when we’ll finally be accepting
over mothers not trying
to ensure their embryos are whitened
by bingeing on soy rather than caffeine.
I’m tired of capitalists mindfucking
those who are already struggling
over our worths as a human beings
still very much determined
by the shades we were born in.
I’m tired of celebrities promoting
lead in what we’re wearing
and mercury in what we’re swallowing
and that we keep paying
by bingeing on soy rather than caffeine.
I’m tired of capitalists mindfucking
those who are already struggling
over our worths as a human beings
still very much determined
by the shades we were born in.
I’m tired of celebrities promoting
lead in what we’re wearing
and mercury in what we’re swallowing
and that we keep paying
them to kill us from within.
I keep on wondering
when we’ll finally be accepting
regardless of the color of our skin
and when we'll see that melanin
is a gift, rather than keep scrubbing
it off like a curse for existing.
2018-02-16 7.29pm
it off like a curse for existing.
2018-02-16 7.29pm
150: Sayang
she calls me Sayang
as her love straightjackets me
while the padded walls absorb my screams
and my streams and my dreams
and it seems that she thinks she’s trying
to save me by tugging me tightly
but i’m no barbie in abaya,
nothing but a black sheep in wire
who'd rather crossfire than conspire,
wearing social justice warrior
as a badge of honor.
.
dia panggil aku Sayang,
dan aku dihidupkan untuk menjadi bonekanya yang
solek-selokanya bak bidadari tanpa bayang-bayang.
tapi sayang, suaraku tak semerdu dayang
rambut tak lebat berikal mayang
lidah tak sehalus tali lelayang
tubuhku tak seramping tiang
senyumku tak semanis angan-angan siang.
.
dia panggil aku Sayang,
tapi diriku dah penat ditayang.
sendiku sakit dihuyung-hayang,
diheret, disentak rentak si juru wayang.
yet even after decades of resistance
i am still struggling to keep a distance
between her scripts for me and my own reality.
.
she calls me Sayang,
and sometimes i wonder
if the word has lost its meaning
because the more she talks to me
the more redundant she makes me feel.
.
she calls me Sayang,
so the saying "marah maknanya sayang"
is really just gaslighting,
isn't it?
2019-04-12 7.20pm
2018-01-30 3.06pm
as her love straightjackets me
while the padded walls absorb my screams
and my streams and my dreams
and it seems that she thinks she’s trying
to save me by tugging me tightly
but i’m no barbie in abaya,
nothing but a black sheep in wire
who'd rather crossfire than conspire,
wearing social justice warrior
as a badge of honor.
.
dia panggil aku Sayang,
dan aku dihidupkan untuk menjadi bonekanya yang
solek-selokanya bak bidadari tanpa bayang-bayang.
tapi sayang, suaraku tak semerdu dayang
rambut tak lebat berikal mayang
lidah tak sehalus tali lelayang
tubuhku tak seramping tiang
senyumku tak semanis angan-angan siang.
.
dia panggil aku Sayang,
tapi diriku dah penat ditayang.
sendiku sakit dihuyung-hayang,
diheret, disentak rentak si juru wayang.
yet even after decades of resistance
i am still struggling to keep a distance
between her scripts for me and my own reality.
.
she calls me Sayang,
and sometimes i wonder
if the word has lost its meaning
because the more she talks to me
the more redundant she makes me feel.
.
she calls me Sayang,
so the saying "marah maknanya sayang"
is really just gaslighting,
isn't it?
2019-04-12 7.20pm
2018-01-30 3.06pm
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