January Light

"it was like being seen after perpetual darkness, after a lifetime of silence"

my chest is in pain for the fourth consecutive night. but tonight the sensation is overwhelming. it’s very difficult to breath and my arms feel like jelly. i desperately need a double arrowed button that says fast forward.


this poet hates words

what is a string of letters and spaces but letters and spaces:

imaginary meanings conceptualised in print?
okay but that is that
she is she just as
he is he

do you ever stare at my skin and wonder
if a unit of language is noise or illustration
and if either
whether hearing and seeing is the same as feeling

because this skin cannot feel anything within
when beings say
“I love You”
then wish You do as they wish
and speak as they speak
and sing as they sing
falling deaf as a heart fibrillates
and another virgin goes to waste

in another collection of used bodies


one can learn to treat oneself the way others treat them; 

a hotline when you need

a free resource station 

a dumping ground 

a statue to analyse 

a temporary companion 

one can also also lose oneself in human constructs; 

transport fees 

education fees

living expenses 

water bills

electricity bills 


car loans 

cotton decency 

one can also numb pain with innovation; 





one is a lonely number in a billion world. 

From Chang’an by Wena Poon

Liu Yong:

In the tiny winding ways of the city’s pleasure quarters
Roam the queens of silk and brocade
Among the girls beckoning from balconies
I have eyes for only one—
My Little Bug

No painting can capture your poise
Nor flower represent your face

How many times have we gone drinking till dawn
Only to fall exhausted on warm pillows
And embroidered duvets drenched with scent
Two hearts in tandem—neither Heaven nor Earth
Ever saw a more splendid pair

But lately, madam, storms have driven us apart
I can no longer afford you
But still you agree to meet
For hurried trysts that left us desiring
When all we ever wanted to do was marry and grow old together!

Dry your tears. We have to bear what the heart cannot bear
I swear I will return to take you away from this life
And pen a proper ending to our years of love.

I dread this time of the year

Neglect is a feeling I have always known. To me it’s not a verb, it’s a noun.

It’s been with me since the beginning of toy trucks and barbie dolls. To when they disappeared, sold to the salvation army. Much like my spirit to all of you.

From the age of 10 I cried every year on my birthday. And just when I thought I had completely detached at a ripe age of 18, I received a string of “sorry I couldn’t make it” messages. Make what?? I’m not sure either. Probably as friends.

Good to know you’re being put on a pedestal of insignificance, a successful turn-off.


Is it a paradox. 
Always running and hiding and avoiding. Escapism and life has merged into confusion which, only really surfaces when the question is encountered: what are you searching for? 

To be subconsciously on the move to the extent that I am mentally crippled from getting up, getting out, is ironic. 

The answer to what are you trying to run from cannot be described; only experienced, not explained. 

I want a war in outer space, I want galaxy with people speaking in tongues, I want a farm in constant sunrise, a day that never ends.  

I want to walk on the Milky Way and wrap myself in vines. Bathe in vin santo and climb up a cumulonimbus to fall into water that doesn’t hold. 

Escapism is a mind game. 

June 2012: the single comment that broke me, sparked a fire and changed my life forever. 

[49, 48, 45, 43, 44]