do flowers bloom for us to ****** or do we ****** flowers because they bloom
is it logical to ask this way
I sense this is the day
to stroke your hair or to kiss your hand
to trust you or to be shrewd
recurring flashbacks to all the times you spoke of valour
and how I loved you as you spoke
do you fancy me or do you pity me
romance won’t last long on sympathy
you know that resolve you’re clinging on to, looks an awful lot like dread
this morning you’re struggling between affection and integrity
did you put her on happy drugs or will you send her to therapy
you can’t be the fugitive and the police
do I need a brother OR DO I WANT A LOVER
PURE ******* OR DADDY ISSUES
to fight for you OR TO FIGHT YOU
ARE YOU SAFE FOR ME OR ARE YOU NOT
TELL ME
DID YOU LEAVE BECAUSE I CHANGED or were you drawn to justice and fair play
SHOULD WE GO ALL OUT or should we draw the line
DID YOU TURN ME IN or am I thinking too much
SENSED FEAR IN YOUR VOICE OR WAS IT IN MINE
HEARD YOU SCREAMING OR WAS IT ME
CAN I STILL SEEK REDEMPTION IF I FIRE THIS SHOT
CRIGGER FINGER
I KNOW I PULLED THE TRIGGER ON YOU
BECAUSE I HEARD YOUR SKULL BREAK
I KNOW I SHOULD HAVE CONTROLLED THE TREMBLING OF MY HAND IT WAS IN SELF-DEFENSE I PROMISE
I SWEAR THAT BULLET WASN’T MEANT FOR YOU— AND THE MIRRORS, I DON’T RECALL THEM CRACKING
I ONCE WAS FOUND BUT NOW AM LOST
COULD SEE BUT NOW AM BLIND
I USED TO SIT AT THE RIGHT HAND OF PEACE
SO CALM AT THE FEET OF LADY LUCK
UNWAVERING IN THE FACE OF MORTAL DANGER
AND UNFALTERING EYE-TO-EYE WITH FEAR
I SAY, FOR SWEET BLOOD THE WORLD CRIED
AND EVERYBODY LOVED YOU AS YOU DIED
after the burial did I stay for crimes I had to pay
or did I steal myself away

head bowed and knitted brows
I can’t lift my eyes off of the ground
what was it you said the last time,
about “chin up, God’s face is there in the clouds
look for the silver lining, it’s in every cloud”

I’m sorry I can’t do it

named my fear Abel and my wrath, Cain
named my pride Jordan and my lust, Jezebel
“don’t name them,” I was cautioned, “you’ll get attached to them”
I don’t think I will see you again
I am an avid sinner
and you, a man after God’s heart
I would say congratulations on making it to heaven
but I’d much prefer it if you were here

my account:
I think I heard Him calling as I fell through the cracks
but whether it was Him or my imagination,
I couldn’t be sure
in times of despair we often hallucinate of hope
thought I saw a hand reaching
but was it dragging me or lifting?

your account:
I remember watching as she fell through the cracks
and He called her name softly,
coaxing her gently back home
I saw His hand reaching,
swiftly breaking her fall
but she thought it was attacking
and so she fled

I wonder what it’s like to show up at the pearly gates
hopeful heart and bated breath
or downcast eyes and wringing of hands
I’ll come before the pearly gates only to be turned away
as Saint Peter flips through the Book of Life and shakes his head
sighing at the sad vacancy where my name used to be
my dear, I don’t think I will see you again
please tell God I thank Him for calling my name
and extending a hand to break my fall

tell Him I’m sorry I ****** away

Abel and Jordan, they are my friends
Jezebel and Cain, my partners-in-crime
the bond was forged as soon as I named them
and I found myself growing to fall back on them
they lived with me here on tangible earth
while it felt to me like God lived only in the clouds
needless to say, I grew closer to sin than salvation
what can I say, they are what is familiar

you told me there’s a silver lining to every cloud
I didn’t tell you
when once in my rage I ripped it to shreds, discovered:
the silver lining in my cloud
was a sliver of tin foil and nothing more

take me to bars we’ll try that ginger beer you told me about
in return I’ll introduce you to the softest corners of my mind
buy me a ticket to that R21 show about that man and the lady
in return I’ll tell you stories of how my life has been and lessons learnt
walk me to your car and we’ll go on late-night drives
in return I’ll be your companion and keeper of secrets
you lean over and fasten my seatbelt
finally found someone to be an older brother figure
then I remember
the last time I said someone was like a brother to me
and how that ended
I’m smiling so hard right now
at crude jokes and glow-in-the-dark bikinis
tonight you dream of you and me
in the club and you in the bikini
me with a moustache
promoting glow-in-the-dark bikinis and hair removing cream
your dream ends here and mine picks it up
so we’re in the club
you in the luminous bikini and me with the moustache
and it’s all fun and games until I lost you in the crowd
I wept and I wept
you see I’m so quick to fall on sadness
and so quick to call your name
then I remembered you were glowing in the dark
so I found my way back to you again
“hold on to my shirt ***** don’t get lost again”
I like you this night
it’s a stay up late with me kind of night
laughing at your silly stories kind of night
cats mating
and no caffeine boost kind of night
when someone takes you away
I will try and laugh it off
the same laugh
with which I respond to you calling me funny
I’m not funny
I’m only funny when you make me funny
hey, what’s she doing here
now we’re doing that cliche thing like in the movies
hey, don’t hold his hand if you’re just friends
please
please don’t leave
when you are taken away
I will try to gently let go of your shirt
you are one foot ahead and I have one foot in the grave
when we head into crowded places
tell me to wear the glow-in-the-dark bikini under my clothes
so you don’t lose me in the dark

we will always say we are not ready
for fight, for flight, or for anything
wanna feel “it can’t get any worse than this”
wanna feel risk and adrenaline but make it out alive
civilians fleeing for their lives
the world is small and bodies get weary
there is only so far you can run and so long before your body gives
not to mention your mind
when minds go, people break
life has a limit; when it is time, we go
is time supposed to flow linearly
I continue being flippant
when it comes down to it, some will lash out at me
some will feed me medicine
and some will shake their head and leave me to the wolves
I play with my beads and taste the air
not yet, it’s not time yet
haha
lately I’ve been contemplating the reason why I’m not willing to commit to colour
I think for people like me, when we try to assign ourselves to a hue,
we end up more colourless
somehow
I see three different places when I know it’s one
an hour feels like a day and
a month feels like an hour
sit tight and buckle up
we’re catapulting headfirst into the last hour
did anyone tell you
it’s a dangerously fine line between fight and flight
literally
shall I fight or shall I take flight
we take cover in shades of grey because the less colourful we are
the less we stand out
the less aggressively we are pursued
in the end we are still defined by our lack of colour
as I type, people murdered because they are branded by colours
or lack thereof
I don’t enjoy thinking about it
I pull at the grass and observe cloud movement
not yet, it’s not time yet
yay
there are arrivals, and then there are departures
when they arrive, they arrive here where people are
when they depart, nobody knows for sure where they go
maybe there are many destinations
like hell and heaven are just two of many
maybeeee
I hope we all just perish into a void
chugga chugga choo choo
on my way to departure
one day we’ll be at death’s door knocking
“little pig, little pig, let me in!”
or attempting to smash the door in
“or I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blow your house in”
as some people already are doing at this age
what if we broke in hoping for the void
but instead landed ourselves in hell
“thanks for nothing” “thought this was gonna be good” ” ugh”
I return to pondering petty problems
like rice weevils in my rice
choo choo
“We have arrived at Death’s Door. The fate transfer is about to commence. Please do not miss the transfer if you wish to come aboard.”
if this were a book, I’d be the character who fears death
and funds research for life-extension or immortality
just that I’m kind of broke
if only I could—
snip snip
cut a bit off someone’s life and paste it on the tail-end of mine
haha
when it’s my time to go,
I will say I’m not ready
as I have been saying every other day of my life

I don’t care you know, just make me up
but I suppose if I don’t do basic character designing first, you’d have nothing substantial to play with
opened the character settings page then gave up
oh well you can just fantasize about this hollow husk
just physical, for starters
I’d still be honoured
you ask me how I’m doing
I laugh so loud the ceiling shakes and neighbours come out of their houses
I started losing my footing since I stepped into this hellhole
you know, my vision is blurred
just take advantage of me
I won’t even retaliate I might even play along
hey, the me from pre-quicksand
I miss you please come home
this house is something like a hollow husk
I can’t see clearly anymore
I should probably get some glasses
even then I’d still let them play with me
I always levelled up my combat but neglected other skills for self-preservation
cooking, crafting, farming, hunting, etc.
is the person in the mirror the same as the person in the photos
****** doppelgängers
I’m quite the expert at investing in things I shouldn’t
and subtly letting people down
hey, the me from pre-quicksand
I think you should come home so I feel more myself
so maybe I can once again be kind(er)
and a little more wise
to see with unclouded eyes
and stop wandering off unarmed into the great unknown
when you’re back, pass me the ****** glasses
hey, idiot in the quicksand
can you at least try to ask for help
instead of struggling there like a *****
you’re sinking deeper
so I’m hollering and screaming at the top of my lungs
frightened faces peer out from windows opposite
forget it I’ll make a home of the quicksand
when I was still in control of the game
I should’ve trained some skill to get me out of this *******
or at least deal with it better
because now someone else is playing me
to some stranger I passed the reins, saying
“I don’t care you know, just make me up”
I’m in chin-deep
just launch me into battle without ammunition
I’ll simply die, then respawn, then die, then respawn, then die, then respawn
again
and again
oh well I guess this isn’t so bad
by the time the me from pre-quicksand comes back
there might not be a need for her anymore
nor for ******* glasses

you know things about me that unsettle you
you've seen me in pitiful states and in proud ones
when I emerged from rooms in tears over nothing that awful
you looked at me, no judgement, only wondering

you've seen me for my selfishness, my neglect and awkwardness
and still
you embrace the parts of me that lapse into fits and fall behind
you have your own problems but still care about mine
how are you so gentle to someone so unkind

you are my blessing
you are a miracle without having to try
the shards in your life are more piercing than mine
and still
you take care making sure my fingers are fine

you're sugar, spice and everything nice,
you're lovely and brave and oh, so kind

I should have paid more attention that it wasn't special treatment

you're lovely and brave and unbiasedly kind
you're sugar, spice and tragically nice

that day in the church I saw you in white
tending to a girl with eyes resembling mine
and a heart, believe me, even smaller than mine

that sunday I was shaken with a tender feeling
like jubilee bells ringing on a fearful june evening

you're a home to the homeless
and a beacon for many
definitely god-sent,
Jesus of Nazareth you were to plenty

you're so nice it laces my chest with a curious ache
I know your affection is more than I should take
you were— you are, my good old hearth
fireplaces were built to be shared in parts

I pray once in a while, giving thanks for you
for the tissues and bandaids and warmth that you bring
and if life itself isn't already a miracle for you,
I hope one day you get yours too

zzz...
me dozing, or the buzz of human interaction
she tends to her cacti
he heads out the front door into a new day
birds are talking to one another
circling overhead, fantasies
or a memory of crossing a busy street with you
I stir my coffee and it splashes out
printing stains on a patterned tablecloth that vaguely resembles winding roads, street maps
between adoration and lust
I choose obsession
sometimes I think I see your face in passing windows
or behind the steering wheel
of a speeding car uncertain where it's headed
between tenderness and bitterness
I choose anger
they enjoy asking me what it was like
thing is, I wasn't in the backseat of the car when it happened
nevertheless, I tell them:
it's the feeling when you have somewhere to be at eight a.m. and you wake up at ten
it's heading out the door, then remembering something you forgot and having to go back inside
it's breaking into a run to catch a bus
and the bus leaves
between reason and madness
I choose risk
it's replaying scenes on a broken record
of that day you perished in traffic
as I sat behind the steering wheel in an SUV
uncertain where I was headed