Let us Get Lost

September 25, 2016 § Leave a comment

Let us while away our days
in a cavern deep beneath the sea,
wrapped up in the cold embrace
of waves that lull us to sleep

Let us swim away our worries
in the midst of the ocean
wrapped in each other’s arms
under lurid open skies

Let us float away forever
to the depths of the seas,
feel the ocean floor with our feet
and the seaweed with our limbs

Let us get lost in one another,
take this leap together
to the ocean underneath,
become blue as the sea
and still as these waters.

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photo credit: Underwater via photopin (license)

Unravel

September 18, 2016 § Leave a comment

My hands are pins and needles
marred from decades of backbreaking work,
leaving me as useless
as a shadow in the pitch black.

I can still taste the factory on my tongue,
feel the rubble against my bones,
the smoke ingrained in my lungs.
The news flashes as bright as my memories,
photos of mangled bodies on the TV screen,
their smiling faces tattooed on my eyelids.

The words are sealed tight in my lungs,
they disappear on my tongue,
so these memories I keep sewn shut
to the inside of my skin where
I can feel them like nightmares that never end.

But I’ll open up this skin,
unravel everything,
spill blood, fresh and new
to memories of residue –
a factory in flames
and bodies turned to ashes.

Slowly, like ink
I’ll unravel to stains on a quilt,
words I could never utter
becoming images for all to see
in this fabricated fantasy.

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photo credit: in expert hands via photopin (license)

After All

September 11, 2016 § 2 Comments

Words of platitude
against my grief
wash over me in waves.
It’s easier to ignore,
become cocooned in misery
‘til I’m black and blue
both inside and out.

I’m too busy with remembrance –
your fragrance on my pillow,
sharp and sweet.
Your taste on my tongue,
fast fading.
And their words fall to deaf ears.
I am numb to all
but the warmth of your jacket
wrapped around my shoulders.

I can imagine you and I,
our futures forever intertwined –
too easily.

They tell me, “it’s okay,”
but I’ve forgotten what that means.
They say, “you’ll forget”
but I hang on to every moment.
every word. every breath.
every sigh. every kiss.
I want to etch into my skin –
a tattoo I can’t unsee.
A memory for the ages.

Years after when your name
has faded from my lips,
your face, all but forgotten.
I’ll find this jacket
at the bottom of my wardrobe,
wrinkled and worn.
For a moment, I’ll see a flash
of our days past – faded,
I’ll think, “it’s just a jacket,
after all,”
not the warmth of your body
any more.

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photo credit: Head Full Of Doubt, Road Full Of Promise via photopin (license)

 

 

 

Shadow

September 5, 2016 § Leave a comment

A dark shadow rests where my heart should be
nurturing memories of you,
spreading its roots to my depths
‘til I’ve become darkness too.

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Aftermath

August 30, 2016 § Leave a comment

In the aftermath

I ask myself

“how long are these wounds

going to last?

Was it worth it, after all?”

 

Questions I should have thought of

before you had set in

to my skin like scars.

 

These days, my thought last

into the deep hours of the night

Tossing, turning – I am breathless.

My open wounds sting

like salt on my flesh.

 

In the mid-morning sun

I am heavy with sleep,

and I ask myself,

“how long ’til I heal?”

 

By evening, I have shrouded this persona.

Unbreakable, immovable.

Concealed all my scars ’til I’m skeletal –

no skin. No signs of you in me.

In the mirror  I am bare –

faceless, lifeless.

On the inside, my scars

throb like my beating heart

that I cannot conceal.

 

I ask myself, “how long, how long?”

’til I’ve lost my voice

to the depths of the night,

but in the morning

you are slowly fading,

and I think,

“is it worth it, to lose you?”

28520047975_01e37bb787 photo credit: icy via photopin (license)

 

Good Times, and the Bad

August 19, 2016 § Leave a comment

I remember once, a few years ago, I told a friend about how disappointed I was that I had been getting no writing done. After all, it was the summer holidays, and while during the school term I had the excuse of y’know, homework, study, and exams, there was nothing to stop me from pursuing my writing over the three month long summer holidays.

My friend said to me that sometimes you get drained as a writer. And you need the time to actually dawdle and come back to it. At the time, I was much younger. I didn’t quite understand it. I was still adamantly annoyed at myself – at my lack of motivation and self-discipline. I’m sure I spent hours over my writing notebook trying to get the words out. Hours that would have probably been better spent elsewhere.

Don’t get me wrong. Sometimes you absolutely need to just sit down and write, no matter your lack of motivation or inspiration. Sometimes that’s just what necessary. But what my friend told me about being drained is also true. There are times where you just need to give yourself a pass, and take an extended break. notes-514998_960_720

I’m telling you this because… you guessed it! I needed an extended break, because I was drained. I basically spent a month writing accessively. Not just working on a new project, but also doing collaborative and freelance work – along with my normal, everyday teaching job. Safe to say, afterwards I was wrecked, and I didn’t even really realise it.

This past while, I’ve been trying to take it slower. I’m working on some writing, but it’s been very unsteady. I do want to come back to this blog, because ever since I started it, I’ve always felt comfortable coming back here and writing – no matter how long I’ve left it (And I’ve left it for quite a while in a few instances!).

But in any case, this wasn’t just for me. I guess if you’re a writer too, or an artist of any kind, and you’ve been having a bit of a dry spell… don’t feel too disheartened. Take a deserved break and hopefully you’ll come back feeling much better.

This Barren Tongue

June 6, 2016 § 2 Comments

Freedom was a taste on my lips

before gunpowder dreams

entangled with every crevice of my tongue.

 

Now, my eyelids heavy with nightmares

watch ahead to the dawn of the day,

the approach of a seashore bay

and my tongue feels heavy

with a language foreign,

with a future unknown.

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photo credit: Sailing to the north via photopin (license)

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A journey between books and myself as I go through life.

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I have people to kill, lives to ruin, plagues to bring, and worlds to destroy. I am not the Angel of Death. I'm a fiction writer.

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