my luck seems
to have run out.

it's been chasing me for
too long now.

the night glows.
tonight i'm sitting outside,
in some dark alley-
i don't exactly know where.

i hope someone doesn't think
i am something else.

but i needed the quiet.
i've got a gun,
to protect myself,
but i don't think i'll use it.

i'm too tired.
whatever happens, will happen.

it's been two hours,
nothing has approached me.
i think i'm safe.

but with my sort of luck,
you'll never know.

safe from the outside, maybe.
but safe from the inside?
never.

it isn't true ; don't
believe them.

drinking and smoking and black
eyeliner to hide eyes puffy
from crying isn't
attractive.

it's messy, it's wild, it's
broken, in a
haphazard sort of
way.

i present you with a different
face each day;
green eyes flecked with gold.

those remain the same.

but beyond that, oh
beyond that
there's the pain.

and oh god,
the pain, it
could **** you.

i suggest you leave.
i am a hazard to myself.

today i listened to a song
that you once called "our song"
and it reminded me of you
and all that you stand for

alone at home,
i lay on the cold tiled living room floor
shut my eyes
and listened.

i will admit that i cried a few tears for you;
i looked at a picture of us from months ago
and sighed because it seemed like just yesterday to me.

i remembered you
i remembered us
it hurt for a while,
but i admitted to myself that i did miss you
and then i reached out
and let you go.

this feeling will fade in time, i know
and i told myself to be strong.

i think it worked.

the song ended,
i took my earphones from my ears,
and i stood up.

i must have left the part of me that loves you
on the ground behind me,
because i think i'm finally over you.

anorexia
is not just a disease
it is a monster
eating away at your soul
until you become nothing but skin and bones.

depression
is not just a mood swing
it is a demon
******* away your happiness
until you become nothing but a shell of who you used to be.

these are serious problems.
do not be too naive
or monsters and demons
will steal the people you love.

i know what you think.
i can read it on your face,
it oozes out through your pores
drips from your eyes
like salt-filled tears at a funeral.

i know what you think.
i can read the silent judgement,
i can see that ******* pity
cloaking your whole being
like a snake right before it squeezes
the life out of you or me or both of us.

and i hate it.
i hate that you feel obligated to help me,
but you don't know how.
i hate that you think i deserve better,
because i know i do not.
i hate that the only thing you can offer
is a pathetic "stay strong",
because those words have been repeated so many times
over that they cease to have any meaning at all.
i hate that you want to help me,
because i don't want your help, *******,
i just wanted you to listen without the slightest shred
of commitment or concern.

let's turn back time a little.

back to right after you asked me if i was okay
and i said i was
and you saw the walls reflected in my face
and you knew.

but you didn't push it.
and that's for the best, because i am
a whirling storm of lightning and rain and thunder
and clouds almost as black as my eyes.

don't force me to have to save you
from the person i know i have become
if i can't even save myself
from me.

do our hearts really break?
or are they just bent into a new shape,
ready to fit into a new person's?

if i could tell you i would let you know.

who are we, really?
behind the laughter, the tears
behind the people we pretend to be
what are we made of?

if i could tell you i would let you know.

do we stay the same
our whole lives
or do we shed our past selves,
evolving into a new version
of us, free of the shadows
that used to haunt our hearts?

if i could tell you i would let you know.

why do we change for people?
why do we pretend to be people we're not
just to mold ourselves
into a warped version of the people
we used to be?

who are we, really?

*if i could tell you i would let you know.

for your inability
to hide a single thing you feel -
for your quiet willingness
to listen to me talk about the world;
about the beauty of being alive,
about warmth on cold days
and perspectives you never imagined
you would someday hear ;

for your unashamedness
to tell me all the things
you don't like about yourself
but for your determination to be
the best version of you
you know how to be ;

for how different you are from
every single person i have ever known -
for your never ending reassurance
that i am worth so much more than i know
that my emotions and problems
are worth giving a voice to ;

for your silence
and for your laughter
for your tears
and for your wisdom
for your pride
and for your insecurities

thank you for showing me someone
so much like me yet so different
so stable yet so unsure
someone i have known my whole life yet -
someone i have yet to know.

heard you moved on;
from your own lips.
don't really know what to say.
don't really know what to feel.
too tired.

did you expect me to be any different?
cry, maybe?
tell you to remember me?
no.
what's the point?
you're gone.

it hit me with an air of finality.
you; her.
me; myself.
would i want it any different?
maybe. perhaps.

but perhaps not.
loving you got too hard.

does it really matter, actually?
that i'm bitter?

does it really matter,
how i feel? what i
think? i think not.

i'm just a speck of dust
on your horizon.
do i exist?
not really.
maybe.
perhaps.

i don't understand
how you can put me back together
and tear me apart again
in just one day

i don't know why
you give me hope
you make me smile
if you're just going to take it all away

you make me laugh
and you make me cry

and i wonder if you're worth it at all sometimes.

if one day
i fall
don't catch me
if one day
i run
don't chase me
if one day
i drown
don't save me.

i made a choice.

my life
is mine to live
my life
is mine to end.

"round and around and around
and around we go."

she hurt you and you
hurt me and i
probably am hurting him too,
but that's life for you.

you call me at 3am,
every day, like clockwork.
the routine's the same; i slide
out of bed, change, and meet you
and the diner down the street.

you say the same things; how
you can't sleep now that she's gone
and how instead of wanting her back
you just want a second chance to
get things right.

i sit there, etch an expression
of sympathy onto my face, reach out,
and hold your hand. but all i'm thinking
is how my heart aches when yours does, how
i wish i could be the one to piece you
back together again.

suddenly i hate her,
the girl who did this to you,
because she had it all, *your love,
and she threw it away.

but then i look at her face and i realize
it's not her fault, it never was.
the problem with paper hearts
is that it's never a clean break,
just a messy tear.

all the words i speak will never be enough
to heal the hole in your heart
because those words come from my heart,
not from hers.

like a pencil;
2B.
sharpened;
                    once;
                              long, long ago.

but someone broke you;
pressed too hard perhaps.
dropped you perhaps.
and you lost that point;
the point on which you live.

it's okay.
i'm the same.
we're all the same.

little pieces;
shavings of broken lead;
trying to pull ourselves back
together
again.

but pencil lead is graphite.
it isn't magnetic.
is there even anything left to pull?

take me to a place
where i can see You
face to face;

because all i want to do
is slip away
into the darkness i've been
trying so hard to fight.

There’s something funny
about a loved one’s death
it’s like climbing up a flight of stairs
and thinking there’s one more stair than there is
so you put your foot down
and it passes through the air and hits the ground
it’s a shock,
your heart beats really fast
and then nothing.
Absolutely nothing.

I remember your face
your smile
your laugh
I remember the times
When, as a kid,
I giggled in glee
and flew paper aeroplanes around
on your lap
I remember your hand
how it fit into mine
like it was meant to be
how you told me
everything’s gonna be alright

and now I remember
the huge gaping hole in my chest
where my heart used to be.

I remember staring at your face
And thinking,
“this isn’t you”
I remember how they dressed you up
and laid you there
and I struggled with the realization
that someone, something in my life
would never come back

it was like I watched you
walk into the ocean
deeper and deeper
until the waters covered your head
I was screaming, crying
Begging you to come back
For me
But you didn’t hear a word I said

Yeye, Mama, YiDioh,

I sing what I cannot speak
I write what I cannot say
My heart beats for you
I will never give up

Everything you taught me
How to be brave
How to be strong,
When I’m afraid
How to press on
How to hold on
How to keep the light in my eyes alive

I love you,
You had a great ride,
And I will never forget you.

my life consists
of running through dark alleys
away from shadows that pursue me.

i am the reckless
i am the broken
i am the wild sobs at daybreak
i am the silence at twilight.

i am a washed-up, beat-up soul
chasing visions of a wasted youth
down dark alleys;
fleeing my demons.

who i used to be
and who i'll be tomorrow.*

i'm not sure who i am anymore.
chasing the ideals of someone i'm not
reaching for the goals of someone
i don't really know myself to be
i got lost, tangled up in dreams
that disappear as soon as they touch my fingertips.

the person in the mirror doesn't even
look like me anymore. those
dark circles under her eyes from many
sleepless nights, the chapped lips
and the dry knotted hair. that isn't me,
that can't be me.

yet within myself i know that she and i,
we're one and the same.

who am i?

"because, you know, before you help others, you have to help yourself.
before you fix others, you have to fix yourself.
before you love others, baby girl, you have to love yourself."*

someday, things will be perfect
someday, the pain will be gone
maybe it's wrong to hold on too tight because
it will all be gone anyway.

someday, we'll find a home in the sky
someday, the tears will be worth it
one day, things will be better.

look yourself in the mirror, now
and tell yourself it will be okay.
believe it, hope it, pray it,
don't let go.

do you ever feel the way i feel?

do you ever stand six feet deep
in the messes you've created
wondering how the hell you're going to get out?

i sift through my past once a week,
flip the pages back ten at a time,
trying to pinpoint where exactly
i went wrong.

but that one page i seek
is strangely elusive. all i can tell,
magnifying glass gripped tightly in one hand
and a bottle of jack clasped in the other
is that i've ridden this downward spiral for too long now.

reaching out, i switch on the radio;
and that one song, it goes on and on.

i think
at the end of the day
when the shadows are lengthening
and a cold wind is blowing
it all comes down to this:

i am completely alone.

there's no sound except my echo,
not a soul besides my shadow.

i am alone.

and as trying as it may be
it also tells me that i am strong.

i am a wanderer,
i walk life's roads alone,
i depend on no one but myself,
what good can empty promises do for me,
anyway?

i am a wanderer,
i walk life's roads alone.
and neither man nor spirit
can ever again hit me so hard
that i fall to my knees.

i am a wanderer,
i walk life's roads alone,
and i am proud of how far i've come
and how much i've learnt
in the bitter years gone by.

i am a wanderer,
i walk life's roads alone
and i will stand strong
against the beating of the wind and the rain.

you've been taking pieces of me away,
one by one, slowly.
you thought i would not notice.

i did.

you took my breath away,
when we first met,
you with your brilliant grin,
you with your expressive eyes
and you with your love for life.

you took my heart away,
when you left,
you with your short clipped tones,
you with your emotionless eyes,
and your with your cold shoulder.

and now you leave me here,
with a hollow emptiness
where my heart used to be.

but perhaps there is nothing
you can leave behind,

for what's a body without a heart?

this life we live-
it's crazy, isn't it?
funny how the words choke me up
but when it comes down to this:
i have nothing to say
that hasn't been said already.

so what distinguishes me from
the cacophony of voices in my soul?
what makes me different from
the inky blackness in which i
try to hide?

every day is like a battle
but every night just passes like a dream
this life we live,
it's not for everyone but

we love it.

to stare death in the face
and say yes, it was i
who was ready for you, not the other way round
to know what it is to hold both
apprehension and eagerness for each day
in the palm of each hand

to have heard the sound of waves on the sand
at an early age and never
quite forget the sound of the ocean's voice
to be able to know in the depths of one's soul
that life has been lived breathing the sea-salt
air that fills a pelican's lungs

is to be ready when death knocks, cold-faced
and stone-hearted as usual
and to live with the knowledge that life
has been breathed to its fullest -
to let the tides carry you home -
to belong eternally with the song of the sea.

it's funny how things changed;
how we went from best friends
to strangers,
how we went from promising
we'd always be there for each other
to apologizing for the inevitable goodbye.

and i think now,
that "sorry" i blurted
was never enough,
for a last text

your pushing your last gift into my hands
and me avoiding your eyes,
whispering "thanks"
was never enough
for a last encounter

and i wish with all my heart it didn't have to be like this.
i wish i could look at you when i pass you
at the bus stop, in the corridors,
and smile, even if i didn't have anything to say;
i wish i could murmur a greeting to you
instead of saying hello to your girlfriend,
looking through you as though there was
nothing beside her but air

but i know there is no going back.
we made our choices,
(or did they make
us?)
and we'll stay strangers
until we leave this place.

you're okay, love.
you're okay.
take deep breaths, shoulders shaking;
grip the edge of the sink like
there's no tomorrow,
feel the cool porcelain beneath your palms.

turn on the tap.
watch the water gush out;
tilt your head back, watch
the broken lightbulb on the ceiling
buzzing.

deep breaths, love.
scoop the ice-cold water with both
your palms, marvelling
at the subtle roughness of your
fingertips, and the rest of your
hands covered in small imperfections.

splash the water on your face,
wipe away the tear tracks,
wash away the smudged mascara.

you'll be okay, love.
this has happened so many times.
shoudn't you be used to it by now?
square your shoulders, look me
in the eye. whisper to me,
almost as if you mean it,
"i'm strong. i'll be fine.
i am fine."

push the bathroom door open;
go out there, face the world.
you're okay, love.
you're okay.

i'm out on the highest peak
screaming your name
like the fool that i am

but all that's here is my shadow,
my echo

can you hear me?

just like the walking cliche that i am
i place my hand on the glass
wishing you were on the other side
to put your hand against where mine is

but life isn't like that.
life fogs up the glass,
maybe even breaks it
and cuts you with the shards
on bad days.

you tell me about her and
how she broke your heart and
how you're so empty now that she's gone.

all i do is say how sorry i am
that life messes up the best of us
and tell you to keep hanging on.

but what else can i say
when all i want to do is run to you
and tell you how much i love you?

what else can i say
when inside i bleed for you
and what we can never have?

what else can i say
when you tell me you can't picture
life with anyone else?

what else can i say
but tell you i'm so sorry
and mean it with all my heart.

what else can i say?

she's tearing you apart and
you're tearing me apart and
i know i'm tearing him apart too.

sometimes i sit and wonder why
love is so
cruelly blind.

it's staring your reflection in the eye,
dripping wet and naked after a shower,
realizing with a sort of cruel stiff detachment that
your eyes are so dark you can see another version of yourself reflected in them

it's crying till you hyperventilate because of the sharp
hurt in your
chest on some days
and not being able to shed a single tear despite the ache on others

it's being terrified of yourself because you
can't
decide which is worse - being dead or dying.

it's watching your hands shake as you try to explain
how you feel without simultaneously dissolving into the very
shards of glass you're trying to put back together

it's slamming the doors of your heart shut
to every single good-intentioned well-meaning soul
who's ever had the misfortune of attempting to make you open up
because kindness be ******, you know deep within yourself
that you are beyond saving

it isn't always plain to see but
you can feel it every single waking moment
and you can't even remember what it was like to not have it
creeping in your life, ******* the air out of your lungs,
draining away your joy

it's the despair you feel on dark days when
the realization that it will be with you for your whole
life hits you and god, you just wish you could end it right there.

but you don't.

you crawl into bed with eyes blurry from tears and a nose so blocked you can't even breathe and you
wake up the next morning and you do it all over again
but somehow you hang on to the hope that one day,
one day things could be different and even though you know
it's more likely that you'll be in despair your whole life
you let that small shred of hope tide you through because
without it you would be dead
and you accept that this is your life now,

and it will be for a long time to come.

it's getting harder to breathe.
i'm lost in a tidal wave of silence,
as oppressive as your words
can be some days

when they cut deep into my soul.
i'm out on the edge and i'm screaming my own
name as though it could teach
me something new about my horror at

seeing my tears in the mirror.
but all that comes back is my echo;
the darkness of a wasted youth;
too many bottles of alcohol and too

many late nights where i sleep at daybreak.
it's nonsensical, everything and nothing, all
at once.

and then i ask myself,
"am i alive? what is the
essence of my being?"

and no one replies.

what are birthdays?*
"a day to celebrate your being alive"
"a day to celebrate your birth"

but i am tired of living.
tomorrow is my birthday but
i don't feel like there's anything to celebrate.

when they're gone
look for me.
when you've got nothing left to hold on to
lean on me.
when there's nothing left in your heart
but sorrow and ache and loneliness
find me.
when you realize what pain is
talk to me.

but until then
when your life is perfect
and you cannot fathom why i feel
the way i do
and why i lie
the way i do
and why i cry
the way i do

i will love you from a distance

because it is hard to understand something
you yourself do not know.

no, you fool.
pain isn't just crying yourself to sleep at
3am like how they pretend it is on tv.
it's retreating to your piano
in the corner of the hall
and playing until your shirt is soaked with sweat
and the anguish bleeds out of your
fingers and onto the white and black keys.
it's crying and seeing your tears fall onto the
glossy wooden finish of your guitar,
it's staring absently at the blood streaming
from your fingers and staining the guitar a
deep shade of red.

no, you fool.
you don't understand.
pain is going to the things you love
and using them to express yourself
and you feel your soul painting itself
into the words you could never speak.

"but i know
we need a little heart hope"*

there's not much left to say.
just the same things; same
problems, same me.

don't go, please.
i've seen so many people
walk out that i'm not sure who
stays anymore.

i'm so tired that i can't
find it in me to fight anymore.

******* hell,
i've had one too many bottles of jack
but it can't take away the pain anymore;
it can't take you away anymore.

i miss you.

find what you love
(and let it **** you)

you know how it is.
your heart, that stupid muscle
somehow lays her hands on a jump-rope
and skip-skip-skips her way
closer to breaking
every time you think of him.

you should be used to this by now.
after all, he's only the latest in a long
string of boys who somehow
gave your heart that godforsaken jump-rope.

it's so predictable that you nearly roll your eyes
at yourself - or at least you do mentally -
but still you can't help it
you always were a romantic at heart.

what is this feeling?
a sudden ache in my chest,
a sudden feeling of displacement, of loss
i close my eyes,
try to imagine the feeling away,
but it persists,
a hollowness that will never subside.

what is this feeling?
my eyebrows knit together,
the corners of my mouth turn down.
i stare blankly into the distance,
my only thoughts dark and lonely,
my only words sparse and muted.

what is this loneliness?
this trembling of my lips
this ache in my heart
this crying of my soul.

i've never met you before,
never seen your face,
except in those pictures and videos they show on television.
never heard your laugh, never seen you smile in person.

yet somehow i feel that i know you.

and it breaks my heart
to think that you will never
be thirteen,
never go to a new school,
never meet new friends,
never be in a new environment with new people.

you will never feel the joy of becoming a teenager,
never get your PSLE results,
never again pull your favorite shirt out of the closet to wear,
never laugh and smile with new friends.

you were-are, twelve.
too young.
too soon to go.
you were a spark in the dark
that has been extinguished too early;
the night is still young.

and i will miss you,
because you represented childish joy to me,
something the world will miss dearly.

go in peace, and may you find happiness wherever you are.

i know
i drink
too ******* ******* much.

it's not good for me,
i know, but what in this
life is? wouldn't it be better
to lose myself,
in order to find myself?

or would you rather me be
sober, alone,
fighting in the four walls of my
head that seem to be closing in on me
even as i struggle to breathe?

and then you ask me,
why my clothes smell of smoke.
i remind you,
on a night not too long ago,
you held me in your arms,
regardless of smoke, or not.

or perhaps the stench wasn't so strong then.

because you see,
when you lose half of you,
the things you turn to
to save yourself
might very well **** you.

when i play your song
my skin breaks
and my blood runs out

metal strings,
with rust-colored stains
the guitar that is my heart

and for every quavering note,
for every hollow echo
for every tear that mixes with my blood

i am alive.