I hate
The stabbing feeling
At my food and water’s gate
Into my body.
Hate dealing
With the bacteria in me
When their arrows
Are pointed in that narrow,
Singular spot
When anything cold or hot
Just hurts. Please
Leave me alone; no lease
Was signed before
You declared war
On the space
That wasn’t yours
In the first place.

Don’t leave a puddle
Untouched, lest
Someone muddles
Along into it. Best-
Case:
It deepens, the place
Acquires a lake.
But make
The wrong move,
Avoid its surface
For more space
Along the path
And face mosquitoes’ wrath.
So I guess it’s better
To let
Your feet get
Wetter–
Let’s
Avoid the forehead sweat
You will
Produce when you fall ill.
Get some puddle on your legs
To **** those mosquito eggs.

Their eyes are everywhere; they
Analyse everything I do, I say,
I make;
They take
Me apart piece by
Piece; they feed on my
Soul. Their eyes, more
Like mouths, devouring me before
I even more; lashes more
Like teeth, claw
ing at my skin.
Their eyes that know
They'll always win;
Their eyes that glow
Red in the dark (surely
They aren't human?) staring me
Down at every corner. Their
Eyes on my every hair,
Cell, atom. My mother says
There's no way
I'm not exaggerating but then again,
My family's eyes are
Those never too far
From my back. Always.
Always watching. Day
After day I pass
The eyes as I walk to/from class,
To/from home, on the way
To/from the MRT.
I see
Them watching me,
Watching everyone else, eyes
Slowly being pried
From screen to person, then onto
The next. Me. Them. You.
I watch as silently,
They tear me
Apart, then move onto the next.
I pretend
To look down, text a friend,
But my eyes are always open.
Their shift's done for the day.
Time to find our new prey.

I remember, when I was younger,
I thought that of time, numbers
Like 9:30 or 10 were considered late
To sleep. I was in bed at 8.
But now I can never sleep enough--
I find it tough
To start dozing,
For my eyes to be closing
For seven hours straight;
To do so would be a good twist of fate.
I miss when I was five,
When my body clock was still alive
And working well.
At this point, I can't tell
If it's tired or it's dead.
Think the insomnia's
Getting to my head.

"Without you, I
Would probably die"
"You don't know
What it feels like" "No
I can't stop"
"Right at the top
Of that building looks nice"
"I really wanna ****
Myself"
When will
People stop telling me this?
All it does is
Make me
Worry;
If you ever **** yourself
Was it that I didn't do
Enough for you?
"You're the only one that can"
Sure, I understand
How hard it's been
(I've seen
Others of your kind)
But if you ever die
By
Your own hands the only thing on my mind
Would be
The number of times
You came to me
And my love
Wasn't enough
To help. "You're
A lifesaver"; for
How long will this be true?
For how long can I keep you
In my sight?
I could try but all my might
Will never be enough for
All of you.
It's not that I can't do
It anymore.
You tell
Me you can't hold back
So I do
The holding for you.
But unfortunately
For you and me--
My arms ache as well.

I'd only cut my nails if someone were
To hold my hand. Nails. Claws.
I have no fur
But what I do have is the hands
Of an animal. Surely you understand
The need to pick at them? Where
Else would the energy go— skin, hair,
Knife? No matter the length
It takes the same amount of strength
To keep myself from tearing
Them apart, preparing
To get scolded later. Sharp.
Jagged. My LA
Blood is providing me no words today.
I hit the enter key
And watch as gradually
More paint comes off
But it'll never stop.
They might already
Be short but when there's a will,
There's a way;
There's no point in say
ing I'll stop because
There's no one to stop for.
No one uses the
Nail cutter anymore.

The thief-- she
Took to me
A bit too well--
It was too long before I could tell
Just how much she was taking.
Every piece she was making
Soon turned from hers to mine;
Though she was stealing food
When we sat down to dine.
My words, my soul,
Coming from a theif
Not a month old.
My fingerprints on her gloves.
What did I do
To deserve this?
For you
To take the things I love?
Poetry is
No longer
What makes me stronger,
Above
The crowd.
My voice from your throat
Is far too loud.

"Love me,
Love me,
Say that you love me";
The singer's voice is oh-so dreamy
And so I try
To float along, light and high
And airy as her words; I
Can hear the synth play
er's euphoria. Something
About this song's just screaming
At me, telling me
To just be free
But how can I even imagine
That weightlessness? I hear
The tin
Man's shouts too near,
Too close to home. "If only
I had a heart,"
If only there were someone for me
That could never stand us being apart.
"Love me, love me,
Pretend that you love me."
I wouldn't be
Able to see
The difference anyway.
What do you say?

It just feels
Like I should be feeling
More, dealing
With moving on.
I look upon
The past six years;
Joys regrets fears
Run through my mind
But I find
That nothing truly stands out
About
My emotions, nothing
Seems to be stabbing
Into my heart like I thought
It was but did not.
Is it wrong
To not feel much
About where I’ve been for so long?
Because deep down I know such
Thoughts will come to light
Soon; bright
And white
They will be
(Yet rendering my head and heart
Ever so dark).
How long will it take for me
To see
The pictures that should be
Running through my head,
But are choosing to hide instead?

"No, not like that. That's not how
You're supposed to behave around
Other people. What will they
Think of you now?
What will they say?
Stop moving, they're going to
Stare at you.
You're being too
Loud.
Chin down. You look proud.
Why can't you smile more?
They didn't approach you before
You did them because you feel
Like an ah lian. No one
Wants to deal
With you. You're no fun
To be with. Stop talking.
No more dancing while walking.
Don't waste their time. No.
You can tell they want you to go
Away.
Why are you so
Emo
Today?
What's wrong with you?
What're you trying to do?
Why are you intruding? They
Don't need you to stay.
Stop disturbing people. Go make
More friends, you loner. Can take
Less food or not? You need
A 23-
Inch waist, I say already.
Ayah, not smart enough.
Why so weak? It's not that tough.
Wash your face
And wake up. This place
Is too
Good for you."
See?
It's easy
To be
My own Asian aunty.

Don’t be the man
Yearning
For the moon,
The one without a plan,
Not learning
From past failures and what’s
Bound to be coming soon.
Do not be the one who desires
For the untouchable,
The one whose fires
Are kindled at only one sight.
This is my attempt at shining a light
Upon your scars.
Though you wish for the moon
Amongst the stars,
Don’t you care
About the lack of air
Up there?
Don’t you know you’ll die
Too high
In the sky?
I suspect you’ll never be able to fly,
To reach the moon;
A suffocation I fear that’s coming
All too soon.

You never want a friend
Making one
Too good lest the friendship ends
When they realise you're not fun
Or smart or pretty
Enough when they meet others
On another
Whole new level.
It's human nature to
Want to come first, don't you
Think? Because being somebody's
Number one is the only
Thing that came to me
Thinking about what I want in life
The other night
And I know it's not right
To think like this
But if you've ever felt this way before
You'd know
There's no
Point in trying anymore.

At this point "I
Might cry"
Is my
Catchphrase;
You can probably
See
It on my face
But there's this urge for me
To just point it out
And make everything about
Myself or at least that's how
It works in my head.
But for now
There isn't much else for me to say
Instead (****).
Finish off with a laugh
So they know
Just how deep they've to go
Because smiles don't mean
A thing if you've been
In most people's shoes.
And usually
The
Attempt at making it a joke
Is a good one
So we brush it off as fun
Conversation--
The guilt starts to set
In but luckily I don't get
The spotlight
That I had wished for at first
So everything's alright
And I didn't spoil your night.

I don't think you know
Just how many
Times I've checked my phone, so
Excited to see
If you've seen
My text but the screen
Flashes back at me
And I'm already
Aware
Of the fact that you
Don't care
As much as I do
But still I know you're online.
It's just that your time
Can never be mine.

Today as I was walking home it started to
Rain. And all I could think about
Was looking up at you
(You’d stuck out
Like a sore thumb) as the rain came
Down on us; I was just saying the same
Things over and over “just take
Out your umbrella, bodoh”
But your ego
Would break
You didn't and so
We stood there at the traffic light
Waiting for the green man
So we
Could get to the MRT
Station as planned.
I'd been right.
The umbrella was indeed
Exactly what we had need
ed. And so we ended up quite
Wet by the time we got underground.
But I didn't run today.
I guess there wasn't much to go around
But still it was what I should have done.
Take it from me when I say
Walking alone in the rain is not very fun.

I sent you a parcel the other day.
I don't think you check your mailbox frequently
Enough, because so far there still hasn't been much to say
Between you and me.
But it's okay
I guess. I mean I wouldn't know
Because there's no way for me to go
And check it for myself— or at least no
Way for me to check without making
A fool of myself but it's sure taking
A long time for you to see it. I
Know I left the return address but if you
Don't like it, I'd really rather you just put it to
The back of your mind than return it in pieces.

You can't pour wine from an empty
Bottle, the pop-up ad tells me.
I laugh. I laugh as the cracks
At its bottom cut into
My palm; I pour you
Another glass. It's all red anyway.
Who cares what that AI has to say.

Don't pretend it isn't still stuck
At the back of your mind
Don't blame it on bad luck
You know you're the reason you're
Falling behind
Couldn't you have done more
Held on for a bit longer
Been a little bit stronger
Well now look at who the crowd’s
Laughing at; you screamed a bit too loud
For the pain you've gone through
Why’re you
So weak? Answer me
Seriously
Look me in the eye and tell me
You aren't just a mess sitting in
The corner. They told you you'd win
In life; the only thing you can do
Now is prove them right, you
Know what I mean?
Stop lying to yourself. You haven't seen
Worse. You know
You're fine. So go.
All it takes
Is one step off the edge to make
History. One last breath.
[The admin has kicked ‘Natural Death'.]

People ask me to believe but
Never why I don't.
Everywhere you look
In Singapore there's a different book,
Different building,
Different sacrificial killing
To worship; consider
Us spoilt for choice
In the orchard of apples
People don't see are rotten.
Perhaps that's too strong a word.
Consider us spoilt for
Choice of deities
Waiting to strike us down
As they laugh from their
Hammocks, clouds in the sky.
No. Second time,
Still too strong a word
For these beautiful stories
Told and heard
By generation after generation.
Axe to the head of your son.
Snake telling you to eat the one
Singular apple on the tree.
Birthing a baby
After dreaming of an elephant.
Literature of the gods
Written by nodding
Humans in a circle. "How
Profound," they must've thought.
But now
Perhaps we're forgotten
That the world was built by
Our own kind. Heil.
Atomic bombs. Famished lands.
I wonder who came up
With this plan.

Sometimes I feel like dying
There isn't any point in trying
To be the person I used to be
The me
That people actually
Love. Barely
Any
Energy
Left for the simplest of punctuation.
My notebook hasn't been touched in days
(Like I said, there's no point anyway)
It burns to even glance at it
Glance at the me that's supposed to be
Alive and thriving
But is simply
Rotting away
Doing what I can't say
But it's all fine
It's better to leave nothing behind
Than to have set fires for
Others to put out
When I'm not here anymore.

So my eyesight
Is getting worse,
And though some might
See it as a curse,
I’m just grateful that I won’t see
The downfall of our world as clearly.
Yeah, it’s getting bad
But at least I can’t watch the fads
And trends ruining my society,
The community
Around me
And what it’s come to be.
My glasses will still function
At every messy road and junction
Of my life, unfortunately.

Is there a name for that ache in
My bones, the demon clawing at my skin?
The books always told me
That knowing the name of that entity
You'd just accidentally
Summoned into your room from Hell
Would make you its master;
But let it know yours
And you'd be gone for
Good. It eats at me
Like moths at silk but surely
That can't be
The cause of the dizzy
Spells, those that feel as though
For a second your mind is no
More, incomplete.
Holes in my memory; what was
I about to say? Oh right, please,
A name for the pain;
Unquantifiable;
Undescribable;
Ungodly.
(Rescue me.)
I would text to tell you that I'm fine
But I fear the devil
Already knows mine.

Peace, where are you?
You certainly never do
Seem to appear in my mind–
I can never find
You when I need you most.
Even when cases are closed,
When mistakes are fixed,
I’m unable to see you in the mix
Of emotions that are mind
(Though I’d like to leave them behind
From time to time).
So I search for Peace, hoping she’ll appear
When times of chaos are near.

Fields turn flowerless
As plants turn powerless
Against the winter cold.
At only three seasons old
Do their stems start to fold,
Heads droop and begin
To wither.
Within
Me
Seems to be
Something similar–
Perhaps I’ll look good for a while
But the smiles
Start to fade
With too little sun
And too much shade.
So I hope knowing me for one
School year’s
Enough– I fear
December’s
Round the corner. Remember
Me at my brightest,
When my roots were strong
And my thoughts felt lightest.
For I long
For your company
But Fate’s decided we
Simply aren’t meant to be.
The storm’s coming around.
This side of me should not be found.

You know
It's weird being in a place
That's somehow still so
Unfamiliar even though
It's taken up so much space
In your head
And I don't know how
Else to say this instead
But now
That you're there
It's really
No longer that daydream
Where it seemed to me
That time would pass
During breaks, while in class
With a smile on my face
But I guess
We all guess wrong sometimes.

I bring the tablecloth
Across the marble
And marvel
As the ants make no
Effort to go
Ahead and scurry away.
Watermelon juice
From earlier in the day
Acting more like glue—
Syrup. Drowned in molasses.
My mother'd take passes
On killing the ants, giving
Them another chance at living.
I am not as nice.
I wipe once, twice
To make sure it doesn't stain.
If you listen closely,
Perhaps you'll hear
The ants crying in pain.

Maybe I'm a butterfly
Dreaming that I'm human and my
Whole life if just a made-up story
But I guess that's alright by
Me
Because at least that means
Every tragedy I've so-called seen
Heard felt thought
Of was fake, right? For every
Novel requires a good plot,
Even if made of pure fiction.
There's a reason why
People like Regina and Cady,
Rory and Lorelai
Because it's always nice
When the dishes bring some spice.

So the thing
About being
In a library
That really,
Really
Bugs me
Is the silence
Because sometimes
(Most times?)
Quiet is great, right?
Or at least until
You accidentally ****
The vibe by making
A sound or taking
A quick, far-too-noisy
Walk to shelf 23
And like with most lists
This one is non-exhaustive
And so yeah, is it dumb of me
To lowkey
Be
Afraid to enter a library?