everywhere now and right here
then is just an iteration of now and now an iteration
of the then-now
can’t remember the last time i remembered
to laugh and
to cry
and to laugh—haha
and to look back at the past with a curious eye
everywhere is starting to look like nowhere
with the tedious passage of my own past
like a fatigued traveller traversing a distant space and time
an echo of a familiar doorbell
ringing faintly in my mind just
then
and also,
now
i think i should be happy here
i think
i should be alright now
the past is over
the wrong is right
and the right looks right
enough.
I close my eyes
and smile again
for the first
and the last time

Like a slap on the forehead
it hit me
once, and then
twice.
how odd!
that a turn of the cloth
may reveal
many a plain flesh underneath it
while earthly locks of hair
playfully glides across the shoulder’s meander
deserving of the second’s seconds.
alas, neon green does absolutely nothing
at least, not for the searching soul.
though it may give off a fleeting impression
a kind version of an oddly-open intimacy.
not unlike those found between close friends
and certain objects of anatomical desire.
form-wise, it exists in a non-euclidean space.
personal yet utterly undefined
uncharacteristically characterized.
with a wavelength of precisely 544 nanometres
enough to fill an entire moment
with a thoughtful glance
and such handsome wonder.

The heart comes first
above all else
beyond all else
together with all else

the heart must come first,
mustn't it?
the heart should come first,
shouldn't it?

if the heart is so important
why must there be need to affirm its importance?

the heart is not the originator of feelings,
the limbic system is
the heart is not the driver
but merely a reactive passenger
it is neither self, nor ego
the heart is just... the heart

could it be, perhaps
that it is where the soul is intimated?
where passion is derived and fueled
it drives one to dream
to hope, to fulfil, to conquer...
and to despair
maybe it is what makes us humans, human
without such
we are merely living and breathing,
as other animals do—and they too have hearts
but unlike ours

ours is mostly referred to as an unknowable construct
a purely man-made invention (like Valentine’s Day)
a metaphysical manifestation of our existential insecurity
or maybe just a tired lover’s cliche?

if the heart comes first
then what’s next?

it's 2 AM and i've eaten a little too much
the cold is creeping in slowly
and sleep is quite a ways off
a cup of tea would have been nice
i shan't give in to temptation anymore
i thought.
but what's the point of restraint
if nothing is permanent?
what's the point of life
when death is so sure of itself?
the night wears on
and grows colder with each passing thought
it's coldest
just before sunrise
but i didn't notice
since I'm already fast asleep.

they say that there are 5 stages of grief
if that is true, then i’ve never gotten past the fourth stage.
the only way to cope is by telling myself:
“don’t make it personal”.
all life and death is just the universe’s way of asserting itself.
neither instances of which being any more or any less important
than any other instances that have ever happened, or will happen.
that doesn’t mean that i avoid dealing with it
but rather, i’ve realized that it’s all been rigged from the beginning.
there’s nothing in life that you can control
but there’s the illusion of control
and that’s a powerful and terrible thought
however, severely limiting.
rather than fight for control
i’ve just decided to relinquish it
and take each day as it comes.
the heart remains heavy,
but not always, and not forever,
and this is the truest truth i’ve ever known.

the seat was empty
but the guy sitting next to it looked like an *******
so i elected to stand
and celebrate the vacant air of non-assholery, next to the doors
the atmosphere seems almost more friendly
but the celebration was to be short-lived
as the cabin was soon filled out at the next stop
non-natives, they were, mostly
settling into the space quickly, without fuss—without hesitation
already looking ahead to the next part of their journey
with a disquieting look of weariness and anxiety
a not too uncommon look on locals as well
but the locals were different
they had their techno-gadgets to distract themselves with
whereas the non-natives had to content themselves
with staring at the urban scenery outside
or at themselves
which often offers very little comfort, i must say
interesting how everybody tries to find their own space
in a place which doesn’t actually offer much
the bell then rings, and a distinctly un-Singaporean voice announced
i have arrived at my destination
so i made my exit, eager to start the next part of my journey
ready to embrace the future
where we are no longer judged by the colour of our skin
only by the things that we possess

I shan’t ever tire of looking at you
and that wooden stare of yours
you never seem to change your look
yet you’re always in style
you give so much to this world
and yet demand nothing of it
is that what it means to be enlightened?

Your majestic limbs
are ever so elegant
whether in rain or shine
and every time i gaze at you
i learn a little more about wisdom
i look ever forward
to our wordless conversations
in which you’ve inspired me countless times
though i’ve never really thanked you.

I wish to know your secret
how do you stay so perfectly still?
and which mantra do you recite?
i try do a pose in your tribute every now and then
your image comforts me and it also haunts me
you are like a deity
i adore and worship you
yet you are not a god
—close enough, I suppose.

If tomorrow you were to exist no more
i would be sad, somewhat
but it shan’t be for long
because I know there will be but more of you
your kind have existed long before me
and will continue to long after i’m gone
life goes on, often unnoticed.