177: tenanglah hati

tak henti-henti
aku berhati-hati
dari menyakiti hati

kenapa aku sentiasa
tentang hatiku sendiri

- tenanglah hati, 2025-01-30, 2.40pm

tak henti-henti 

aku berhati-hati

dari menyakiti hati

tapi kenapa aku sentiasa

tentang hatiku sendiri

- tenanglah hati, 2020-11-03, 1.40pm

💜💜💜172: a prayer for the prey

allow me to carve out a safe space

inside my chest for you,

so crack my ribcage open

and create a cave in my heart

where love & reassurance 

beat so hard

and echo so loud

you cannot ignore them

let me drown in my own blood than cause

those who have been haunted

to continue feeling hunted.

- a prayer for the prey

2019-11-06, 2.45pm

💜💜💜170: panic pixie dream ghoul (draft)

throughout my life,
i have been taught
to be seen but not discerning,
to constantly sacrifice spoons
and breakdown
walls i have painstakingly built
to survive; to smile at my own vandalisation.

lately
i have learnt
that part of the problem
is i keep getting lost
trying to find hope and meaning in the halls of shame
of gaslighting goodvibers armed with husnuzon on one hand
and hubris on the other;
my dirt-filled nails and shaky scarred fingers
have been trained to dig up blood-stained building blocks
of altars that served souls saved through divine intervention
at someone else's expense—no

now
what i really wanna know:

Why do i keep talking to walls
that only wanted
wallflowers?

— 20190829 0311

164: harapkan pagar, pagar makan hati

forgive me
for my
staggered
response,
i am still struggling to gain composure from past blows.

the hard expressions i wear (a mask at best)
and the hostile exterior i carry (an armor at least)
are all attempts to cushion any sudden or sustained impact
on my mushy softnesses inside,
yet all the walls i keep building are no match for my constantly outstretched arms
—my first line of defense and my most faithful traitor
everready to charge headfirst and to wave the white flag
in the battle of hearts.

i must confess
my sleeves have turned black
from wearing my heart on them
so religiously.
you can't kinstugi shatteredheartpieces
when it's still bleeding,
so i have spent decades perfecting
the art of stitching them together
with flimsy threads of self-love
and forced silver livings.

sometimes i wonder
how despite everything
it still keeps on beating.

sometimes i wonder
why despite everything
it still keeps me alive.

2019-06-13

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

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

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

142: storm in my heart

feels like there's a storm in my heart
because my eyes keep raining


2017-04-20 2pm

139: kitsugi

kitsugi
is the art of mending broken things
using gold.

we too are made of clay:
ever at risk of wear and tear,
hardening with heat,
and falling apart,
but our defections are not as easily glazed over;
under pressure, our physical cracks are not dry
bright scarlet liquids that keeps our shell alive will eventually escape
in drips, oozes, gushes, depending on the severity of the impact.
yet, time after time,
the vessel will seal its bloody lips
on its own.

but filling up an empty shell with cracks all over, that haven't been healed by time, is not as straightforward
some of us survive only on the faith of others
and we keep cementing our brokenness the only way we know how:
to keep reattaching the cloudy shards of our existence
and line them all back together with silver
because that's the most we can afford.

kitusgi
is the art of embellishing broken things
and after thirty years of existing, i've learnt
that it is really a way of appreciating
that there are ways to make a vessel
hold water, to not be emptied;
that even those that have scars
can still heal
can still have value
and can still be beautiful.

2017-09-16 7.11pm

---

kitsugi
is the art of mending broken things
using gold.

we too are made of clay:
ever at risk of wear and tear,
hardening with heat,
and falling apart,
but our defections are not as easily glazed over;
under pressure, our physical cracks are not dry
bright scarlet liquids that keeps our shell alive will eventually escape
in drips, oozes, gushes, depending on the severity of the impact.
yet, time after time,
the vessel will seal its bloody lips
on its own.

but filling up an empty shell with cracks all over, that haven't been healed by time, is not as straightforward
some of us survive only on the faith of others
and we keep cementing our brokenness the only way we know how:
to keep reattaching the cloudy shards of our existence
and line them all back together with silver
because that's the most we can afford.

kitusgi
is the art of embellishing broken things
and after thirty years of existing, i've learnt
that it is really a way of appreciating
that there are ways to make a vessel
hold water, to not be emptied;
that even those that have scars
are still valuable.

2017-07-24

9.53am

--

kitsugi
is the art of mending broken earthenware
using gold.

we too are made of clay
we too are ever at risk of wear and tear,
we too can harden with heat
we too can fall apart with pressure;
but our defections are not as easily glazed over,
our squishy fleshy skin does not create cracks when broken;
the scars ooze out scarlet liquids pumped out by
our pulpy beating human hearts
to give life to the vessel that contains all our insides but
for those that are barely alive, i keep wondering
what use it is to keep patching up the leaky wounds
if the body has been emptied of everything of substance?

it's difficult to find meaning in emptiness though,
so some of us survive on faith
of others more than ourselves
and for better or worse,
cement our brokenness the easiest humanest way:
to look at the cloudy shards of our existence
and keep lining them all back together with silver
because most of us can't afford gold.

2017-07-21 8.11pm

---

kitsugi
is the art of fixing
broken things using gold.

people too can harden and be broken with pressure and heat,
but although both are made of clay and may wear and tear,
humans are not earthenware;
public displays of abundance and defections are not as easily glazed over --
so our pulpy beating human hearts pumping blood even in the most unliving bodies
reminds us that the only way to keep us whole
is to cement our brokenness in the most human way:
by lining all our cloudy shards with silver instead
because most of us can't afford gold anyway.

kitsugi is the art of embellishing broken things
and after thirty years of existing, i've learnt
that everyone has silver scars
and there is beauty in that
even when we can't see it ourselves.

2017-05-23 5.23pm

---

kitsugi is the art
of making broken pieces whole
by gluing them back together using gold.

after thirty years of existing, today i learnt
that i have somehow, unwittingly, perfected kitsugi.

breathing humans can withstand a lot of heat and pressure, much like china
our hearts allow the pumping of life
as they beat and bleed, hurt, and often, then heal
but although both of us are made of clay, humans are not earthenware
we are neither naturally stiff nor inanimate,
and public displays of abundance and defections are frowned upon.
so instead of cementing the our brokenness with gold,
i've learnt that we're expected to keep lining all the shards using silver;
for me, i do this begrudgingly,
but with time, willingly
and much more generously.

kitsugi is the art
of embellishing broken things
and after thirty years of existing, i've learnt
that there is beauty in silver scars
even when others can't see it.

10.45am

----


but hearts are not stiff nor inanimate
they may just just as fragile as the most delicate china
but they are not cold and glossy --
they beat and they bleed
they hurt and then they heal
... sometimes.

137: ic

you think you can still hide behind your mask, but i've seen right through you.

others may be stuck in your web of lies,
but not me.

not me.

2017-05-01 4.28pm

130: over

thes
e
feel
ing
s a
re ju
st too
much;
i can't
seem to
sto
p mys
elf fro
m sp
ill
ing
al
l
ov
er

2017-04-19 11.25am

121: good night, bad knight

not the first time i've fallen
but my final time trying
my lungs have been swelling
from all the deep diving
into your bottomless eyes
that i've been drowning in before
and your remorseless sighs
impatience i somehow adored

i've slammed all doors: front, back, trap, closet
done and dusted, once and for all, closed it
after all the leeways given, i'm now signing out
by the thought of two and half years of your pout
that you're with me, a gasbag with all its air out

what the hell are you on
and what you going on about
that the only things you doubt
is your emotional blackout
and the lies i've sniffed out?

lying down, lying back,
doesn't matter how you're reclining
you need a spine to decline
from the truth you're denying
i feel for the next person listening
to the things you'll be recycling
if they're buying what you're selling
the 'tortured soul' you're advertising

the bubble will burst for them too,
unfortunately for you;
there's no way you'll last long
you're no knight in shining armor
you imagined yourself as all along.

z
2016-11-30

118: violetion

thick red streams gushing from the lifepump in my hand but you can't see it

via twitter

116: (b)leaky heart

why, leaky bleak heart
overbrimmed with unspoken
words, do(es) i(t) matter?

💜💜💜115: uncyclereduceabuse

The thing about abusive relationships is this:
you don't always end up with scars.

At least, not ones where you are left
beatenupbloody
brokenboned
blackandblue.

He had a way with words.
He was pleasant,
thoughtful,
sweet.

He said I was special.

It started off so well --
calltxtwhatsappskype
timeschedulesdistance
marriagedreamshomes;

He said I was special.

But then special
turned salient.

The grim atmosphere.

The undercurrents.

The addictions.

The dark side.

His past.

The present.
Our future.

What used to make my heart skip a beat
Made me forget how to breathe;
What used to give me butterflies
Gave me sweaty palms and goosebumps.

"If I just did a better job at making him happy, he would be nice again"

The mission to please became an obsession.

And I turned into an addict in denial

just like him.

At one point, I jokeconsoleremind myself,

"Hey, it could be worse.
At least he doesn't hit you."

This made me sober.

I've heard the stories,
I've talked to the women,
I've seen the horrors.

I had to leave.
And I felt free.

I wish everyone else in the same situation has the chanceabilityprivillege
to do the same.

---




The thing about abusive relationships is this:
You don't always end up with scars.

Not beatenupbloody blackandblue brokenbones ones, at least.

For me, it was a classic case of, "I thought only other people go through this."
simply because
"I should have been smarter than to let it happen to myself'"

Now, I'm not sure if it's necessarily about smartness.

Maybe it's smartness intertwined with or messed up when emotions come into the equation. 

Because looking back, it wasn't really obvious when I started feeling trapped.

He had a way with words.
He was pleasant, thoughtful, sweet.

He let me know how much he needed me.

He said I was different.

I'm special.

I lapped it all up.

I guess in retrospect
I should've known better.

But it started off so well --
we did the whole calltxtwhatsappskype
went out some despite timeschedulesdistance
we even had talks of marriagedreamshomes;

Things were pretty good
at first.

It was not long
before other things crept in.

The slow, but sure, 180 turn.

The grim atmosphere.

The undercurrents.

The addictions.

The dark side.

Then, more things became salient.

His past.

The present.
Our future.

But i had to be kindacceptingunderstanding, i kept telling myself.
And so i kept readjusting my bearings to where he was. To what he was.

It took me a while to realise what this actually meant:

that I was adapting myself to him.

I can't be the way I am.

Because I'm not good enough.

But I still had to make him happy.
By hook or by crook, even if it meant I had to be someone else.

And so my feelings, thoughts, and actions started to be (sub)consciously dictated by
how he would feel ifs, 

what he would do ifs, 

what he would say ifs...

And the little things he did that used to give me butterflies started to give me goosebumps...
And the lively calls slowly became more and more one-sided...
And the jokes turned into accusations or insults.

But he wasn't always like this.
He wasn't.
Honest.

And this was the fuel that kept me going.

Because I'm different from all the other girls who left him, you see.

I'm special.

And there's always that voice at the back of my head:
"If I just did a better job at making him happy, he would be nice again"

The mission to please became an obsession.

I didn't realise that it was an impossible one.
And so I turned into an addict in denial

just like him.

It was only when I began to jokeconsoleremind myself,

"Hey, it could be worse.
At least he doesn't hit you."
... that I realised the gravity of this situation.

I've heard the stories,
I've talked to the women,
I've seen the horrors.

I had to leave.

It wasn't easy.

The lashback was painful
The pleas were guilttripping
The callsmessages had to be blocked
but I managed to escape what has been caging me.

And I felt free.

I wish everyone else in the same situation has the chanceabilityprivillege
to do the same.

112: underpressure

 Pour Stir Taste Sprinkle Stir Taste Stop Press Breathe It'll get better Control Close
 Steam Spill Open Release Stop Stir Sprinkle Taste Pour Sprinkle Stir Close
 Brew Spill Open Spill Stop Taste Brew Boil Spill Breathe Close
 Brew Boil Spill Sigh Open Stir Close
 Open Spill Taste Close
 Open Taste Press
 Stop
 Stop
 Stop
 It doesn't
 Close

104: of peach tea and ice cream latte

this isn't a poem
this is my train of thoughts
processing.

{{{rewind

my peach tea
your ice cream latte

talking about
spices and herbs in drinks
and how you're keen to experiment
and i couldn't bring myself to.

//and i remember you wanting
tangerine and cardamom tea.
it sounds odd,
but if you made it,
i'm pretty sure
i might try it at least once.//

and then we chatted
and laughed a little too loud
making fun of wwe
singing flight of the conchords
-- your fav is 'you're so beautiful... like a tree'

talking about what our 10 year olds
would think of us if they saw us right now
yours would be somewhat unimpressed
by your hair
(which i find extremely cute);
and he'd ask, whispering, "who's the girl?"

(why are you so cute?!)

i told you i almost ran away when i was 9
and i bundled up my stuff like doraemon did
and you laughed because i brought up doraemon.
i like it when you laugh.
(perhaps a bit too much)

then we went down for you to pray
and i was doodling and forgot to look at the time
and when i saw you standing outside
i couldn't help but smile

(seriously,
why are you so cute?)

we skipped gelato
"or you'll have to hold it for me"
and you asked if i wanted to drive around with you
as if i could say no

in your white mini, beatles in the air
driving around in circles
driving around in silence
driving around with tears rolling down my cheeks
because you wanted me to let it all out

\\you played julia once.
and you said you listened to it repeatedly
after you dropped me off,
it's such a sad song.
(i wish i could ask you
why you listen to such sad songs)\\

you try to understand.
you understand me
despite only knowing me for a week plus.

what's up with you?

we parked and looked over the valleyed city
near the top of the hill.
you relaxed and reclined your seat;
you cracked your bones,
you apologised.
= don't worry about it
bones cracking
= you can do anything you want.
startled, "what?"
= yeah, you can crack your bones, stretch, whatever
"so you're ok with me breaking my spine half?'
= what? NO---fine, you can do anything you want, as long as your don't hurt yourself
= ... or others
"ok then."

and then you asked
"how does this feel?"
= hmm?
"what do you think of this?"
= what do you mean?
"what do you think 'it' means?"
= [us being here?]
[i think he said yes, but his real meaning seemed concealed]
= umm...
i felt like i would burst
i wanted to touch you
i wanted to tell you how much i like you
i wanted to know how you really felt about me
but all i said was
= it's nice
(i can't ruin this moment)
(i can't ruin whatever 'it' was)
(i can't ruin whatever we are)

and you gave me your wooden bracelet
which i'd wanted since the last meeting.

and at night, on the phone, you said:
[thank you for making my december memorable]
just something along those lines
i can never remember if it's too long

but i do remember this:
"you're adorable"
= so are you
"umm. thank you."

i try to understand all this.
it's hard.

where do we go from here?
what do i do?

i'm already missing you so much.

94: Time capsule

she stares back at me,
dismayed,
disappointed.

i fidget.

she calls out to me.

i try to ignore
i try to block her out -- 

Look at me.

i stay silent

Look at me while I'm fucking talking to you.

i stop.

Turn. Around. Now.

i look away

No, you may not look elsewhere -- look at me. 

i start to stand.

No, you may not leave -- sit down.

i open my mouth

No, you may not reply -- be quiet and just listen, dammit.

i stare

For once, listen to yourself.

i shut down.

Just what the hell do you think you're doing 
Putting yourself on display 
With your adoring eyes
And your silly sighs
And your swollen heart 
On your bloodstained sleeves?

i close my eyes

As if you'd learnt 
Absolutely nothing 
From the past

i stop.
"nothing."

Nothing.

the word echoes in my mind
as she tells me again and again and again
like a broken record

All the world is a stage
and people are mere actors
with convoluted intentions 
and they don't always act their parts
the way you hope they would
and they don't always say their lines
the way they probably should

so okay,
i'll listen once again
to the image staring right back at me
one more time.

because
at the end of the day
with or without my reflection
i am
Nothing

93: Down With Love!

She said

he's over one hour late
stuff about her ex
stuff about conflicts between generations
stuff about middle children
stuff about school
stuff about exes bring baggage
stuff about her family
stuff about why she's afraid of the dark
stuff to not make her look like an idiot

(to no avail)

Naked doesn't even begin to explain
how she felt -- but
She should've known better
For having always been transparent --
She should've known better
For they say people living in glass houses
should mind what they do --

(but alas)

She uses that excuse again --
that she keeps forgetting
to keep being rational
to keep acting professional
to keep doing what's right
to keep avoiding what's wrong
to keep reminding herself

(again and again and again) --

Crushes will most likely
crush her.

92: Down With Love?

He said

We live on different planes of reality
I'm kidnapping you
I'm glad you're shorter than me
You might be surprised by how many exes I have
Here's a toy I bought at RantAi
I don't really like taller women
At least I'm not in debt
Have a look at this
I go everywhere for my girlfriends
I want to be like sustainable man
I don't want to worry about getting married
Pretty girls are usually crazy -- it usually takes 2 months for them to show their craziness

And I listen
And I wonder
and I smile
And I frown
And I nod
quietly

And he

Leans in to suggest what to eat
Taps my arm to tell me something
Takes me to artsy places
Introduces me to his friends
Smokes discreetly
Hands me a gift
Buys me dinner
Doesn't ask why I tested whether his toy would sink or float
Walks odd because of his injury
Invites me to experience art with him

And I blush
And I grin
And I laugh
And I think
And I look
away.

But he

Doesn't care about time
Doesn't consider making a family
Doesn't plan for the future
Is haunted by his past
Is relaxed about his present
Can't do long-term
Can't stop smoking
Can't be alone

Said I was pretty

Why do you do this to me?

And I am probably lonely
And I am possibly bored
And I am slightly agitated
And I am definitely tired
of Love