kau bangga
lepas kau pecahkan siling kaca
berdiri tegak di mercu kejayaan
kau bahagia
lupa yang kau pijak segala tulang belakang yang rapuh bawah
yang kau ratah lapah darah daging, isi tinggalkan kuku
kau bahaya
20250130 1458
184: can nibble
183: devil's playground
your persistent open burning
sparked by pandemic loneliness
fueled by anxiety and idle hands
is starting to destroy my sanctuary.
your smoky taste of trauma bonds
this smell of ashy codependency
is starting to suffocate me.
i don't need another gaslight.
- devil's playground
2021-05-04, 6.24pm
🔥182: panic at the tesco
dissociating while doing groceries in a time of a pandemic is a whole different ballgame; a list in my shaking hand is no match for a brain that refuses to consistently process letters and numbers, so i walk in circles around aisles, lost among frozen foods and leafy veg i cannot recognise whatmore choose, my mind preoccupied with why we do things like cook or eat or shower or work or plan or dream when at the end of the day we're all sentenced to die with different expiration dates.
as i force myself to have faith that all this isn't just capitalistic chaos,
i am reminded that everything happens for a reason
god knows best, they say
so i stay
looking at my reflection wondering
whose eyes i am staring into.
10 april 2020
🔥181: karmic crescendo
TW
anxiety-riddled,
my head is a constant battle of sounds
and feelings crashing
like waves into each other;
interference scares me.
as does being out of rhythm,
missing too many beats — i am
conflict-averse but i am also
realistic:
i know that
sound travels faster
through solids and liquids
than through the air,
can be distorted
and interfered
into oblivion—
that when
push comes to shove,
whisper networks
can only reach so far.
choirs of screaming matches
between metoo advocates and rapist apologists
crescendos of nails
scraped across a board
feel a bit too familiar
like listening to white noise and broken records on repeat
while scrolling through toiletpaperworthy nonapologies
witnessing victims collectively crying in an orchestra of agony
and then be blamed for attention-seeking at best
of causing their own suffering at worst
although it pains me to listen to these tragic tunes
i find it amusing how so many mishear this collective choir as
survivors celebrating with silly receipts in cancel parties
serving blistering hot tea sweetened by revenge - no
all this is anything but
cathartic.
it’s to make people aware
that the same melodies are sung or screamed by those who suffered similar pains
and so that those of a similar frequency know
there are those who listen
that their voice matters
and we are not alone.
- karmic crescendo
20210315
💜💜💜180: konmari
one of these days, i'm going to write about how taking care of my heart
is a chore i wish i took more seriously.
every time i try to clear out the cobwebs inside my chest, i bump my head and shoulders into things hooked on its walls; knock my knees and toes into things stuffed in its nooks and crannies.
i would lay low and slowly
unpack the baggage i accumulated and start learning to compartmentalise,
unhang the skeletons of souls that have been chasing me in my dreams,
undogear the chapters that are done and dusted where you, like all the others, remain a metaphor, a foreshadowing, a symbol, a period that i thought would fit my lifelong sentence,
but that's a story for another day.
my obsession with hoarding memories like my life depended on it
has long been a problem
just like my system being an "organised mess"
— you and i both know, i am the mess.
until i can fold away my feelings from my past
and tuck away my thoughts about my future
to make sense of my present,
i will have to keep collecting these scattered words and phrases
waiting to be bound and sealed in a box somewhere.
one of these days, i'm going to write about how taking care of my heart
is a chore i took seriously
so that when it stops beating
it is full
and light
at the same time.
- konmari (draft?), 20200218 1347
🔥179: supreme
there is much to be said
about mass manifestations
in a time of moral panic
the small yet steady streams
of serfs in socially-distant safs
earnestly serving the Sublime with
practised platters of prayers in parted palms
and pleas pattering through covered lips
to pave the best path for the departed;
to pad the blow for the broken-hearted.
in tongues
sometimes familiar
mostimes foreign,
i can't help but marvel
at our divinely unity
in seeking Infinity.
- Supreme (draft)
Ori: 20200624 02:03
Edited: 20200704 21:55
...
there is so much
to be said about
mass manifestations in a time of moral panic;
serfs in socially-distant safs
serving the Sublime
with platters of parting palms
and pleas through covered lips,
to pave the best path for the departed
to pad the blow for the brokenhearted.
in tongues
sometimes familiar
mostimes foreign,
i marvel at our unity
in seeking Infinity.
- Supreme (draft), 20200624 02:03
178: (re)vertigo
in these ungodly hours,
between sneezing fits and coughing spells,
i am reminded yet again of my choices in life:
what i shouldn't have done
where i shouldn't have gone
who i shouldn't have loved
why i shouldn't have cared
when i should have stopped
trying
as i inhale yet suffocate on nothingness,
my breaths wheezing in and out of tight airways
squeezing through inflammed slime-padded walls;
if the air pressure drops, i know i need to get my oxygen first before
i focus on others, but every time i stumble with my own mask
to deal with a vessel that constantly breaks down
triggered by too many things that it thinks is a threat,
i realise that no one else around me has lungs that malfunction
like we have left our atmosphere despite still being on land.
as an alien living in constant fear of unidentified flying objects,
my eyes are as cloudy as my thoughts, but i am not high.
i'm too acrophobic to be in heavenly spaces
so i stay displaced and disgraced, grounded
feet firmly planted in a foreign home
that regularly chokes me.
tell me, when should i stop trying?
- (re)vertigo, 20191118 0745
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