175: librated

you stormed into my life like a typhoon.

swept me off my feet 

as i get whisked into the air

in a single smoky breath.

restless, relentless spirit, 

a thing of mystery and wander;

an acquired sight to behold

from afar.

at the whiff of your scent on another body, 

words escape me

while memories rush in:

your salty skin on the tip of my tongue,

your warm hands squeezing my sides,

your books on my bedside table,

the sight of unanswered blue ticks

the soft toothbrush i left behind

the silence of blocked calls

 and i am grounded again.

- 2025-01-30 14:46

---

you stormed into my life like a typhoon,
a restless spirit sweeping me off my feet
in a single smoky breath -
relentless,
a thing of mystery and wonder,
an acquired sight to behold from afar,
a ride
  i cannot stay on.

yet, at the whiff of your scent on another body, words escape me
i think of your salty skin on the tip of my tongue,
the warmth of your hands on mine, and
the things we left for each other:
my toothbrush at your place
your books beside my bed
and the sound of blue ticks signalling
  that i am grounded again.

- 2020-01-23 20:08

💜💜💜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

169: gasbag

i have sliced open my chest far too many times to know that brutal honesty is painful for a reason.

unbloating myself from feelings feels like an easy reflex sometimes, but the aftermath of pouring out the content of my heart is never a pretty sight: the streams of words bleeding down my sleeves pooling in my palms always end up looking like an acidic al pha be t s oup, a Ho tCri m s onMes s d r i p p i n g on the floor that i may have to lap up in the end, and my oral fixations do not include having my own foot between my lips.

but after years of slowly swallowing morsels of self-compassion and washing them down with perspective, i am learning that layers of bandages are weights i need not carry. poking my brain to thoughtvomit has a tendency to leave a lump in my throat, but i am starting to understand why we must squeeze out pus to clean wounds -  that there is wisdom in releasing things that make you ill, and the dangers of romanticising decay.

and so i pick out the letters i need with one hand to form sentences the best i can
and hit send
with hope that you understand.


2019-10-08 8.45pm



i have sliced open my chest far too many times to know that brutal honesty is painful for a reason.

unbloating myself from feelings feels like an easy reflex sometimes, but the aftermath of pouring out the content of my heart is never a pretty sight: the streams of words bleeding down my sleeves pooling in my palms always end up looking like an acidic al pha be t s oup, a Ho tCri m s onMes s dripping on the floor that i may have to lap up in the end, and my oral fixations do not include having my own foot between my lips.

however, after slowly swallowing morsels of self-compassion and perspective and patience
i am learning that layers of bandages are weights i need not carry.

poking my brain to thoughtvomit has a tendency to leave a lump in my throat, but i am starting to understand the wisdom of cleaning infections by squeezing out the pus first.

and with that, i pick the letters with one hand
to form words the best i can
and i hit send
with hopes that you will understand.

2019-10-08 8.34pm

i have sliced open my chest far too many times to know that brutal honesty is painful for a reason.

unbloating myself from feelings feels like a good selfish reflex sometimes, but pouring out the content of my heart is never a pretty sight: the streams of words bleeding down my sleeves pooling in my palms always end up looking like an acidic al pha be t s oup, a Ho tCri m s onMes s dripping on the floor that i may have to lap up in the end.

my oral fixations do not include having my own foot between my lips and poking my brain to force out thoughtvomit has a tendency to leave a lump in my throat,

but i am starting to understand the wisdom of cleaning infected parts by squeezing out the pus first;

perhaps it is finally time for me to learn to swallow my worries and wash it down with self-compassion

to see the beauty of clean wounds

rather than live in layers of bandages

and with that, i wash my hands and send

with hopes that you will understand.

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

141: stub-burn

healing
begins
when the stub-
born
T
H
O
R
N
is finally out of the wound

ori: 2017-06-06 10.17pm
edited: 2017-07-21 8.21pm

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

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

💜💜💜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

86: Maximum volume on mute

So I laugh a bit too loud.

and i can get a bit clingy
and am too distant at other times
and i like things that don't matter much to others
and anything out of the ordinary
and i get excited about fictional characters
and over people who will never know who I am
and i hate unrealistic expectations
and being told what to do and when to do it,

But

nothing pisses me more
than someone
believing
they can control
what i do.say.think;

I am not blind
I am not stupid
I am not that naive

So

i've been waiting for you to notice
that you are not talking to a mirror
though you might as well be
since you're trying so intently
to fix your own reflection
in the form of me.

I am not blind
I am not stupid
I am not that naive.

flawed is the least I could be
but to change me completely
is robbing me of my individuality
and
i'd rather be
chained and
gagged and
shackled and
beg
on my knees
than to apologise for
what i never was,
things i can't possibly be,
for being who i am
not who you want to see --

I am not blind
I am not stupid
I am not fucking naive.

Seriously,
i shouldve known better
than to stop laughing
when you said

I laugh too loud.

---

remembering things and a certain someone who made me angry in the past.

70: blow job

To think
that being a quarter century old
would help me
endure the mental torture
and the emotional turmoil
of figuring out how to minimise
the blow
of breaking another person's heart.

29/11/12 2pm

60: estranger

stranger
th/æ/n fiction,
stranger

th/ɛ/n reality,

stranger(,)
th/æ/(ɛ)/n everything
i thought i knew

(about you) is

fiction-worthy, th/ɛ/n

reality sinks in, th/æ/t

you
are

(/ə/) stranger.

- 8/12/12 2.37pm

stranger
th/æ/n fiction,

stranger
th/æ/n reality,

stranger
th/æ/n everything
i thought
i knew

is the sudden awareness that
you
are
(/ə/) stranger.

- 8/12/12, 2pm

59: run away

i feel bad

not because
i
had

reciprocated

mistreated
laughed

smiled

cried.

i feel bad

because
i

fear
being
dispensable
dismissable
disposable.

i feel bad

because

i
would

rather

disappear

than 

confront.

this is how i preserve myself.
this is how i save my heart.
this is how weak i am.

and this is why

i 

always 

flee.     

43; We are all experiments

Eureka!
I now have the solvent I've been waiting for,
the last element to support my hypothesis;
this mysterious concoction has now been dissolved!

Finally
I have found the key compound
which crystalises the fact that
you think of me as
Something
who can withstand your methods
who can be moulded as you wish
who will willingly trickle or ooze or solidify or crack or vaporise
as you determine the variables and set the standards,
as you manipulate the conditions,
as you dictate the process.

It's all crystal clear now, because
the pH of what you said is too low, and
the pH of what you mean is too high.

Since my own test has been proven positive, let's move on to yours:
I have identified a few assumptions of yours that need to be corrected.
(Although I am a mixture of things)
I am not your solution.
(Although I can be filled with substances)
I am not an apparatus.
(Although I do like to make people feel fulfilled)
I don't appreciate being part of a disposable experiment kit.

Objectively,
from one scientist to another:
better luck next time.


19/10/12 9am

"it doesn't matter", he says, "if we don't get to talk to each other that often".
since we are both busy.

40: Falling

you entreat me to dance,
and as affections, lust and romance
start to fill the air; right before that state of trance,

i sober up.

wait.
think.

do you truly like me, or
just the idea of not being lonely?