160: fakeup

blurring the shadows from the past sleepless nights
lining soul’s windows with the cattiest of sights
flicking off the ends, 'few times for good measure
to last all through the day in pain or with pleasure
plucking the follicles that have grown astray
filling in the gaps left behind by d.n.a.
staining the pale from being pursed for too long
plumping them with shades they keep on saying are wrong
powdering the rest, especially the spots
gathering the loose strands and untangling the knots
staring at the reflection, wonder with dread:
am i seeking attention by looking less 'dead'?


2019-03-27 2.10pm

159: soft

please
let me sip on your existence.
i never liked sugary treats, yet i am dying
to savor your natural sweetness on my tongue,
feel your effervescence inside me.

please
this heat is making me drowsy,
and i am parched.

2019-02-27 10.25am

158: volcanot

i grew up in a volcano.
visitors marvel at the vegetation above me
- lush forests growing from fertile soil
failing to hear plates crashing
into each other.

deep within the dark earth,
high pressured liquid fires and deathly fumes
are ever on the verge of erupting
and i'm tired.



2019-02-13, 4.50pm

157: Life, less (draft)

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

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

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

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

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

151: Qu Penat

They say,
'Beauty is in the eye of the beholder'
but

I’m constantly reminded
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

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

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