A Singaporean Story

Before the half drunkeness wears off

It is 20 minutes to 1am

Congratulations on the 3rd year at your first job

3 years ago today

nothing was planned.

Something was.

You believed that money buys you freedom

And you still do.

That money buys you freedom.

Your 401k's equivalent is a CPF

You have more now

Your tongue is stained purple

From the tannin of cheap wine

From a friend's client's appreciation dinner for clients

An adult's life is all about flattery and exchanges

What is real anymore

Other than the buzz you feel after 4 glasses of red wine

I used to prefer white

You can't sleep

Even if you do

It's not restful

Nothing is

You are tired

Because the environment made you so

Only money can buy you out of this mess

you still believe it so

And now you're here

Believing that 'enter' on the keyboard can prolong each waking moment

until when your world does not spin when your eyes closes

and when they do close

there is no dream

only darkness

restful darkness

Is the solace of a working adult

In the Singapore story

Congrats on the 3rd year anniversary of work

Where there is nothing

But the grind

But the grind

Until time passes

and fades

and your 401k equivalent looks fuller

to buy you peace when you are 80 or 90

I need rest

Real Proper Rest

Newly committed like a fresh coat of gel polish

The everyday motions has it worn down

Caught in the edges in the midst of hair washing

Fall in pieces until it becomes too much to live with

Like a band aid the whole is pulled off

Fresh bare nails underneath

Peek through like the sunlight after rain

No trace of the colour before

Whites of the new nails

Bare

To face the motion of the next day

And onwards it grows

If we gather all the old nails we've cut

And put it back together like the Ship of Theseus

Are we not continuous ships of the nights before

Inevitable

Unrelentless

Passing of time

O how cruel a mistress time is

These floruoscent lights
Sits behind the glabella

Black the highest quality of rest
Brown behind my lids

I need a break

Where the ends of the day settles into the dust of tomorrow,

In between

The quiet does not come.

I discover new songs
On nights like this
and stare blankly into the desk light

A daze
Of how much time had passed
Since I coped with you being away

Busyness
does not change
the dullness
from the space you once occupied

In the midst of catching a breath
recovering from a flu
And a dry cough

I realise
Maybe a wreck of me
will never be dulled enough
to numb your non-existence
away

This green-eyed deluge
Dammed with fear of consequence
Refer in third person
Because extraction makes a distance from 'I'
or so it seems

You know you are above this

Bird's eye view
Unhappy
so you look for distractions
to numb the strength of the whole spectrum

Why is this the most difficult to dispossess

Esteem must be cut from this
You are above this
Do not simmer in this

Feel,
no, but
do not feel.

Don't want to pretend to know
Lights out
Young cuticles
Scratching beneath the truth

Confusing
Reaching
Coming forth

Tell one more lie
Beautiful
but I'm not your love