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Datore Fargo Dec 2022
“You don’t,
have to,
worry about,
me.”,
she says.
Mouth ******,
after spitting,
out words,
covered in,
razor blades.
Maybe it’s something,
you can understand,
or maybe,
it’s something,
that makes you want to run,
straight to Neverland,
and dim witted,
Peter Pan.
“You should,
probably,
worry about,
me.”,
she should,
have said.
But words covered,
with cotton,
tend to cut,
much deeper,
than the ones,
not.
Datore Fargo Dec 2022
Is it,
so bad,
that I want,
to run,
head first,
into it all?
Is it,
so bad,
that instead,
of holding,
my breath,
I’d much rather,
drown?
Is it,
so bad?
Tell me,
is it so,
bad?
I just,
want to,
scream,
at the world,
instead of,
into my pillow.
Is that,
so bad?
ChinHooi Ng Dec 2022
I went against the grain
by tightening the blinds
turning off the lights
the bedroom then became
a bottle of ink
filled with ink either black
or blue
lying in my bed
like an undissolved bit
the world is jet black
i close my eyes and mouth
so as not to choke on the darkness
at this point the yearning
becomes light and thin
pale and faint
and finally it faded
like daylight
the stranger I've come to be like.
M Nov 2022
because they hit like ****** on a friday night.
when my blanket has had enough of reassuring my anxious mind
it's your lovely phantom that hugs me then:
a figment of my pleasant longing
for your hands and the way they hug mine.

sleep with me.
maybe we'll wake up sat on a for-two caddy  
parked across the hanging end of a moonlit prairie.
we'll toss the keys to our locked embrace
until the sun finds us and throws them back.
i have indeed fallen asleep to thoughts of u
ChinHooi Ng Nov 2022
After all these years
when i step into
the land of rye
i can still hear summer
its most authentic heartbeat
roar of the machine takes over
from the rasping scythe
cutting through stalks
when the grains are harvested to the barn
they'll be no more painful stubble at the feet
after many years
the summer is still so **** hot
i like it just as before
the season of mellow mango scent
and pleasant earthly aroma of barley
though all beings are a little deflated
no one wishes to light the flame
at the moment i miss the dense woods in the distance
because that's where cool breezes are born
i appreciate the hospitality of the cotton and corn
they keep bringing the joy of maturity
flowers are exceptionally generous
they keep painting the landscape
standing on the fresh verdant ground
let the rainstorm clean my dusty soul
summer is the season of zeal
i will extract the poetic fragrance
on every lush green plant
so that folks longing for a peaceful mind
can get a peaceful lyrical feeling
across this summer
i especially like the other side of the water
where i can dance with the shy lotus
this summer i've gathered
a bowlful of poems to read
with you.
ChinHooi Ng Nov 2022
The swallows return
unveiling the garment of spring
it's a season of greenery
walking in the field
a beautiful painting is in front of you
butterflies will show you the way
light wind will dance
climbing to the top of the hill
the brook will sing for you
run with you
hot sun in the blue sky
will make your body shine
in this sweet season
I'd like to walk with you
and walk into the depths
of the flowery splendor.
Datore Fargo Nov 2022
Fit
My heart,
is quite,
uncomfortable,
in the pit,
of my chest.
But it also,
doesn’t quite,
fit,
in the palm,
of your hand.
Maybe if,
you squeeze,
just a bit,
you could,
shrink it.
Datore Fargo Nov 2022
Hey,
I got,
a complication.
It’s kinda,
sorta,
really dumb.
You’d call it,
stupid,
and possibly,
some sort,
of weird,
hallucination.
There’s this guy,
works down at,
the bus station.
He says,
this is nothing,
but a simulation.
And yeah,
I know,
it’s an eyeroll,
kinda situation,
but try to have,
some imagination,
ask more,
questions.
There’s this,
really cool dude,
he’s a bit crude,
not really that,
rude.
He swears,
no truly,
he dares,
that some of us,
aren’t from,
around here.
Yeah sure,
it’s laughable,
you’d say,
improbable,
but not completely,
impossible.
And if you knew,
what I do,
maybe you’d,
tie your shoes,
stop tripping,
on all these,
clues.
There’s this alien,
oops sorry,
his name is,
Allen.
He said it,
all started,
with his operation.
He says,
it happened,
while he was,
on vacation,
in Aruba.
Do you believe it?
They picked,
him up,
at a petrol,
station.
All he can do,
is sit,
and think,
about you.
Splash in puddles,
and skip pebbles,
all the while,
on the hunt,
for rainbows.
He swears,
honestly,
he dares,
it’s all,
true.
Datore Fargo Nov 2022
She bleeds,
the universe,
and cries,
shooting stars.
Like a princess,
out of her ballgown,
so out of,
place,
she lets freedom,
embrace.
With glitter,
in her hair,
she sparkles,
even at,
night.
I find myself,
finding pieces,
she left,
behind.
She ran,
so far,
she didn’t,
even think,
twice.
The palace just,
was never her,
place.
Datore Fargo Nov 2022
You walk,
through this world,
of black and white.
With your head down,
shoulders slumped,
and smile,
wiped clean,
off your face.
The trees,
no longer,
green.
What,
do you,
think,
if just,
maybe,
you touched,
a leaf?
Would it,
brighten up,
and scream,
at the dullness,
with color?
Along with,
the song,
no one else,
can sing,
you skip,
in splashes,
of puddles.
If you spin,
do you think,
when you made it round,
and round,
would the world,
spin too?
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