"i'll like a drop of rainwater refracting light...
and a dash of illumination across the endless dark too."

Tuesday, July 29, 2014

penrose stairs.

you seek not to impress, so you would not disappoint.
you seek not to give false hope, so you can minimise casualty.

you run,
afraid of the illusion and audacity of your own dreams.

you hide,
longing to be found only by the right one.

you are,
but a flight of penrose stairs.

one that can't co-exist with reality,
yet whose concept exists for eternity.

Monday, July 7, 2014


i trudged through the thick snow,
i turned,
snowflakes began filling the hollow footprints.
where... are you?

Friday, July 4, 2014

"remember the good, and never the bad."

"but what if there's nothing good that's left to remember?"

"forget. forget everything."

well-concealed behind the thorn bush, she listened. no one had the slightest idea she was there. despite the fine gashes on both her arms and the multiple slash wounds on her thigh and lower right calf, she made no whimper. streaks of blood dyed her pants red as she barely managed to suppress a smirk; a rush of euphoria and ache swelled within her.

"this is it."

"this is it."

Thursday, July 3, 2014


in a humble boat sat she.
gently, she rowed.

she loved the boundless sea, the unparalleled sunrise and sunset, the dazzling night sky.
at the edge of the forest, the cicada calls, the scent of pine lingers, the morning dew renews.
each day, she thought she could be here forever.

yet forever is a long time.

for like calypso, she was cursed.
the very moment she fell in love with where she was,
she will be thrown into the freezing waters and made to swim back to her little boat.

countless times she swam,
with every gulp of air; she struggled to remember all the beauty around her.

countless times she fell,
with every prickle on her skin; she struggled to hold onto all the memories, and what's left in her.

gradually, her perseverance ebbed away.
time, after all, is indeed a scary thing.

as her little boat came into view, 
her hands tightened around its rim. 

yet her worn-out soul is already beginning to lose its shimmer.
her tired mind whispers...
"how many more times? how much longer?"

lost in tears mingled with nostalgia and exhaustion, she slowly loosens her grip...