186: not this one

In another world, reality, dimension,-
I would not feel the need to hide
behind aliases;
semi-anonymous accounts and self-censored face scribbles would be as archaic and alien as
my views being valued,
my traumas being validated,
and my feelings being justified.

In another universe,
I am accepted as I am.

In another lifetime,
I matter.

2023-01-30
2019-10-25

185: drowning

i keep getting tangled in deadlines, and then find myself lost in mazes of miswired neurons

i keep trying to unfeel the weight of the world, and then count all the ways i am a burden

i keep trying to stay afloat,
but this heart is too heavy

i don't have time
for this 

20220204 01:23

184: can nibble

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

kau bangga

pecahkan siling kaca

dengan memijak tetulang

belakang dibawah

kau bahagia

tegak di mercu kejayaan

setelah meratah darah daging

orang disekeliling

kau benar-benar

bahaya

2021-10-15 09.40

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

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

176: sweater weather

today,

we collectively hold our breaths as

covert agents continue to take hostage 

of millions in its path like there's no tomorrow

amidst all the rage against iron fists that

ignore the pleas of those in the front lines and

the plights of those they are supposed to protect,

as systems break down and dreams fall apart,

my apocalyptic anxiety is offset

by drizzle

tickling my soul as i face

the blue sky that keeps getting darker

as the world continues to crash and burn

and nothing makes much sense,

i wish i had

a soul connection

- 20201005

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

174: under deconstruction

if i could redo it all

i'd like my only breakdowns to be walls

in film or fortune or fictional flicks

or diaries or dance or with drumming sticks

or poems or prose or photos galore,

in all the above, and so much more

because

now

my soul is too old

to wound and weave

timeless legends

and tasteful lies.

maybe

i am destined to tell tales

just

maybe

not

in  this  lifetime

2am musings.

#stuffzwrites #z201809 #thingsthatmakezgohmm #muhasabahtimez #angstziety

173: heart

heavy and heaving,
overpouring my emotions
overpowering my motions
in a flash, flooding me with tears
crashing into me in waves as you
join forces with gravity
to typhoon up storms
and whirl up currents
inside me to
drag
me
down

tell me heart, why
do you keep letting me
drown?

💜💜💜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

🔥171: diamond in the dust

maybe what you need

is space.

they say all's fair in love and war, but my heart feels like a perpetual tug-of-war that is always heavier-armed on one side.

when honeymoon turns to nightmare, i keep finding myself in ruins, shattered and scattered among broken bricks of walls i have built, hacked off cancelled projects too-eagerly taken up without realising the bonds i shackled myself into.

when their game is over, i keep going back to the drawing board, wondering what went wrong.

maybe i should've loved harder,
maybe i wasn't strong enough,
maybe i wasn't careful,
maybe i just wasn't ready because i can barely hold the fort in my own internal battles while also bearing the weight of extra hopes and expectations on my shoulders.
maybe love shouldn't be a test, a survival of the fittest to begin with.

my glassy bright eyes may keep grossly misreading the level of bloodthirst around me leaving me to sift through dusty debris of destroyed disney dreams, digging deeper and deeper into the rocky graves of my past lives... but perhaps the treasure from the wreckage is me making peace with myself being either too much or never enough for those who are forever insatiable.

perhaps, instead of finding myself a significant other, i am better off focusing on finding myself significant.

maybe what i need

is closure.

- diamond in the dust

last updated: 2021-03-15

-----

maybe what you need
is space.

they say all's fair in love and war, but my heart feels like a perpetual tug-of-war that is always heavier-armed on one side.

when honeymoon turns to nightmare, i keep finding myself in ruins, shattered and scattered among broken bricks from walls i have built, hacked off by cancelled projects i too-eagerly agreed to take up, not realising what i signed up for.

when their game is over, i keep going back to the drawing board, wondering what went wrong.
maybe i should've loved harder,
maybe i wasn't strong enough,
maybe i wasn't careful,
maybe i wasn't ready because i can barely hold the fort in my own internal battles while also bearing the weight of more hopes and expectations on my shoulders.
maybe love shouldn't be a test, a survival of the fittest to begin with.

my glassy bright eyes may keep grossly misreading the level of bloodthirst around me leaving me to sift through debris of destroyed disney dreams, digging deeper and deeper into the graves of my past lives, but perhaps the treasure from the wreckage is me making peace with myself despite always being too much and never enough.

perhaps, instead of finding myself a significant other, i am better off focusing on finding myself significant.

maybe what i need
is closure.

- diamond in the dust, 20191013 0903

what you need
is space.

they say all's fair in love and war, but my heart feels like a perpetual tug-of-war that is always heavier-armed on one side.

when honeymoon turns to nightmare, i keep finding myself in ruins, shattered and scattered among broken bricks from walls i have built, hacked off by cancelled projects i too- eagerly agreed to take up, not realising what i signed up for.

when the game is over, when reality sinks in,
i keep going back to the drawing board, wondering what went wrong.
maybe i wasn't strong enough, maybe i wasn't careful, maybe i wasn't ready because i can barely hold the fort in my own internal battles while bearing the weight of more hopes and expectations on my shoulders. maybe, i didn't try hard enough.

but love shouldn't be a test for me to figure out, nor a survival of the fittest. my glassy bright eyes may keep grossly misreading the level of bloodthirst around me, leaving me to sift through debris dreams, digging deeper and deeper into the graves of my past lives, but perhaps the treasure from the wreckage is me making peace with myself despite always being too much and never enough.

perhaps, instead of finding myself a significant other, i am better off focusing on finding myself significant.

maybe what i need
is closure.

- diamond in the dust, 20191013 0848
-

need space.

they say all's fair in love and war, but my heart feels like a perpetual tug-of-war that is always heavier-armed on one side, destroying the walls and towers i have built for them to turn into ruins when it all ends when honeymoon turns to nightmare.

when the game is over, i keep going back to the drawing board, wondering what went wrong. maybe i wasn't strong enough, maybe i wasn't careful, maybe i wasn't ready because i can barely hold the fort in my own internal battles, while bearing the weight of more hopes and expectations on my shoulders. but love should not be a survival of the fittest. in my naivety my glassy bright eyes may keep grossly misreading the level of darkness and bloodthirst around me, leaving me to sift through debris dreams and dig deep into the graves of my past lives, but perhaps the treasure from the wreckage is me making peace with myself despite always being too much and never enough.

perhaps, instead of focusing on finding myself a significant other, i am better of focusing on finding myself significant.

i need closure.

- diamond in the dust, 20191013 0803

💜💜💜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.

168: Aliens Anonymous

In another world, reality, dimension,
I would not feel the need to hide
behind aliases;
semi-anonymous accounts and self-censored face scribbles would be as archaic and alien as
my views being valued,
my traumas being validated,
and my feelings being justified.

In another lifetime,

I matter.

20191005 0030

167: vacuum

i keep landing in alien spaces trying
to pace myself between touchdowns & breakdowns;
traces of untied laces all over the place
remind me that i count steps & leaps
more than i inhale

my words go further than my aims
my tank is starting to run out of air
god what am i doing here

2019-09-04 7:58pm