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benzene and formaldehyde
A door in the mind blows open -
It floods with grey matter
And hot stares.
Ashes of darkness
Tears of growth
This is incomparable.
And unrecognisable mirrors;
We've steeped into a portal of surrealism:
With sins and judgement calls that question
The very essence of our hearts.
I really do not want to grow up.
I'm a pair of pigtails who can't
Climb up a step.
Push me, push me, but I can't reach.
When I feel my faith restored
In the overlap
Of green scenes and dental dexterity -
I can only think of one line to combust me:
*"He's just being nice."
Bits taken from 'The Planners' by Boey Kim Cheng and 'Where I Come From' by Elizabeth Brewster.
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