yestoday

under the same sky, settle down with me, wonder-filled child. rest in a slow orbit under the starshine and watch the weight of your warmth cascade down like a parachute skirting the start of a long sunset.

they all say you’re emboldened when you’re with the people you love, the people who share the same values you do – doused in honey over and over again, twirled like a pressed rose and left out to dry, peach earthy undertones lingering in the room, weightless

timeless and drenched in sunlight even as we sit apart, ready to unlearn all that we’ve been told over the calmest dusk.

that night, i saw a moon like you – and the moon will continue to be beautiful, tomorrow then

yesterday.

 

經過一些秋與冬

three and a half years is just a long day, when you’ve been living
on two planets in mismatched socks, watching time pass

like blurred streams reflecting the sundrenched smiles you miss most,
sifting down around that soft spot on your neck that lulls you to sleep.

see, i’ve always had a larger right foot, stepping a little
harder on that one toe that always cracks when i trip

over my words and onto the wrong end of the road.
but why do things always have to be

two? when they can slip into the same sweater and feel
warm, breathe the same air and gaze

at the same night sky on the bus home and unlearn all
that we’ve been told about being you, he, she

and i.

 

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.

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

sayang

It’s been awhile since i wrote anything remotely unfiltered, but christmas and the end of the year sounds like a good time to reflect a little. maybe i just need to remind myself that i’m really fortunate and blessed with many things – and i should be a little more thankful.

this year in short, has been a year of firsts. beginning from hostel: bets on whether we will get through the year without getting angry with each other while falling asleep at our respective tables barely 100cm away from each other with the roommate, always taking leave and going back to a pitch black room on mondays, sticking to the 11pm lights off rule and having – a pretty anti-climatic to most – but exciting enough hostel year for my tired soul.

in terms of writing, i’ve been blessed with a lot of wonderful opportunities and i’ve grown, personally and on a writing level. even though i’ve become increasingly filtered in more ways than one, it’s worth when i’ve found a voice – somewhat. with the few mentorship experiences this year, i’ve been exposed to new perspectives, learnt to be raw and sincere while keeping layers and sheets pressed against the surface.

another of these firsts include learning about what i feel about myself as an individual, be it identity, gender, sexuality, personality, anxiety, insecurities. (what’s the difference between insecurity and not being able to trust people? small thought.) revisiting these supposedly fixed or natural traits took a few months filled with apprehensive googling, watching every possible relevant video on youtube and talking to a few friends – and eventually i came to a conclusion which i am ultimately comfortable with. granted, i’m still hesitant about talking and writing about it proudly, sticking to dropping timid captions and tints of these ideas in writing instead. but eventually it should get, easier i suppose.

this year has, honestly been harder than i expected it to be. after screwing most of the social events up, stumbling through school life with heavy eyelids and soft jackets, starting a document on google drive to write and store inspirations – i’m beginning to reconsider my priorities and have found a blurry (but it’s still something) idea of what i’d like to pursue (even though i probably, won’t.)

tldr; i am extremely thankful to those who have been patient with my tired confused self this year, especially the fam, the roommate, the senpai-feels-cloud, those who have convinced me that i’m more than my salt and angst (haha) and those who have indirectly or directly inspired me to believe that my identity might not be that much of an abnormality, and perhaps even all the anger filled experiences – for helping me grow increasingly guarded, indifferent in some situations and yet more aware and comfortable in my own skin.

also, a nice song to reflect with: stars / future generations