印月

我過我要的生活, 不是生活過我就好.

Category: talk me down

today’s

brew is an acquired taste
where we say nothing, goodbye’s dragged
behind us with your footsteps stirring
my bones warm.

see, what are we but signs and arbitrary boundaries
circling and colliding with the walls of a shrinking
cup: jaded limbs crinkling like dried leaves as we get
impatient, caught up in the clash between white

peach and earthy undertones, our skulls empty
rooms, unmade beds left with grey blankets
cast aside, milk cartons left out in the

heat, text set in mismatched print and
cancelled out in white when i saw your closed
eyed smile and learnt

how to dream again.

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come clean

we sit back to back, your breath
always a step slow, rising over the young sunset

and mizzling down in gold blades,
spiralling in the interstices between our toes

chasing each other’s tails, you
taunting me with the pad of your thumbs

spiralling in a slow orbit to come clean,
and get some rest in the middle of the bed;

a pair of folded hands pressed
into one line stretched across the platform gap.

눈싸움 (blinking game)

i think i liked you more when there was less
of you to learn, before the seasons changed

and you fell along with the sun over the candlelight
into a slow boat on the west lake, sieved through
bronze gauze onto rice paper blotted with blurred
projections of the moon.

before you forgot how to tell which reflection was
real, even after struggling to keep your eyes open
against the glare of the shadows cast by
empty space.

before you pasted silver flakes over your dull skin,
and lowered your gaze because it was unthinkable

that it would have been easier to recognise
not what’s there but
what’s not there.  

as you can tell, clearly haven’t been able to walk out of some things. once again drew reference to hangzhou’s west lake, in specific – 三潭印月.

그럴 텐데 ( i would )

 

let’s forget
all things that fell

together apart into

each half-light, the selfsame
shade of blue extending along
flat planes

tipping over the edges,
circling in coffee-filled bottles,
spiralling in the glare of

your shadow

but think about
the lazy rain and our

(once)

lazier smiles smirks
scowls and hazy sighs –
or perhaps nothing

at all.


more for personal venting than anything, haven’t written in ages; for one i’ve held too much guilt for, and missed too much in my memories until i realised that there’s really no reason for me to still be doing this.

till sunrise

was it the blade of
honey between our          fingers,
lapsed amongst soft
cuts and thin
sleeves

that             swept us up like
a circular refrain, knuckles clashing
against the            constant
backdrop of

irregular typefaces,
dried tea
                leaves,
bated breaths?

see, they say people can hear
you if you think of them
hard enough, even if
they’re seven
hours, two
tiles

one thought away

and so i repeat

is this it?

emergency guidelines

please hold on:

release
that long haul
breath

into pale hands

stow it secure
amidst the stars over
your head

and jump
onto the soft

silent raft; see,
the truth is i

twilit

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