Control

Control
If I were a puppet master,
if we were all puppet masters,
we would make us dance.
I tug and he jerks to the left.
You tug and she jumps to the right.
So much fun until you find out that
you have no say in yourself
and that is called
destiny.

My strings are cut.
I stare down at me helplessly.

Our tension broke

Our tension broke
We fought
and, man, did I fight back.
A single comment and
guns were blazing, armors on,
teeth guard in and earrings off.
Nails sharpened, hair tied up,
swords drawn,
the battle starts.

A huge clash between two giant armies.
It was an explosion of the highest state.
Bullets shot and wounds salted.
A treaty within reach but none bothered.

I thought I was winning.
I didn't stop.
I stabbed and slashed and stabbed
and stabbed and stabbed and...
I couldn't breathe.

The blood on my hands were mine
and I felt pain.

But pain wasn't a feeling.
Pain wasn't an emotion.
Pain is emptiness; pain is hollow.
Pain is a black hole that sucks you in and the more you struggle, the more power it gains.
Pain is a snake that swallows you whole - legs first while your paralyzed consciousness spectate.
Pain is your slow disintegration that modifies time so that it never and will never let. you. pause.

I cut the phone line.
Our tension broke.
Pearls scattered down so gracefully.

Uuuhhhhhhhhaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!!!!

I was queen kong.

I would have tore down buildings,
smash the apartment you were in,
bring you to the top of Tokyo's skyline,
and make you watch me fall.

Make you see me break my skull.
Make you hear me break my bones.
Make you feel me break my heart.

I swore to God I wouldn't beg.
I'm sorry God.

Words shot out like arrows with poison,
which recipe I got from the evil queen.
Alakazam! Alakazoom!
A kiss of life! Specks of sparkles! Puffs of smoke!
We were alive!
But you are not
you.

So innocent like a new born
but your heart from the dead.
And my heart?
My heart...

My heart is pain.

Failing

Failing
It was just an alphabet and a symbol.
Font size 10. Un-bold. Un-italicised.
It was just an alphabet and a symbol
so why does it feels like the
hot curling iron on my skin,
the razor on my face, the
scalding wax on my body, the
blusher in my eyes, the
cuticle scissors across my breasts.
Why does everything in my attempt to be pretty hurt?

It was like the universe was playing a game
out of me.
It made me the girl who won the crown but
my outfit strategically chosen to hide
all the scars from its constant assault;
my makeup so flawless and thick to hide
all the shame and to fill all the emptiness.

I took a blade.
Wine dripped out of me.
Release.

Another.
I was brought to the clouds. Counted ten of them.

One more.
I was just an arm's length from Him.
I have never been so close to such a stranger.
I reached out so desperately. I needed comfort only he could ration.
But he stood there and hugged me with his eyes.
It was pure connection between the shameless and
the shameless.

My heart beating, hitting, slamming. Bang!
So much pain. How could there be so much pain.
There was no fall but I'm lying on the ground.
It was just an alphabet and a symbol.
Font size 10. Un-bold. Now red.

My Lovely Boyfriend

My Lovely Boyfriend

My lovely boyfriend.

I’m going to kill him.

Maybe a cup of tea first –

just for old times’ sake.

No sugar. His metabolism makes him really hot.

If he plays his cards right,

maybe I’ll let him play with my cat

or stroke my hair

or even a kiss or two.

I love my boyfriend.

Maybe I’ll kill him tomorrow instead.

He does so much for me.

He cooks, he cleans, and he kisses

everywhere.

He thinks of me; not too clingy.

He hugs me; sometimes too tight.

He makes me laugh, then laughs at me.

He lets me do weird faces of his face.

And thus, remains why, I need to kill him.

He is great at balancing

between being the perfect man and a complete douche.

He makes me want to smash his head with a slash hammer.

He makes me want to smash my head with a slash hammer.

I am so confused, I’m going bonkers.

Maybe I’ll save the mushrooms till the end of the week.

But his eyes –

His eyes just make everything disappear.

I could just stare at them all day.

And his hair and his lips and his scent…

I got to get ready.
He is coming for tea!

Washing my hands of you

Washing my hands of you
I could punch a wall right now!
Oh, how I want my hands to fill up with blood.
Broken nails. Broken bones.

I want to muff up my ears. Cover them
away from your critique.

I want to kick a glass ball.
Let it crash! BOOM!
Let it pierce my feet.
Let it bleed.

Let me bleed.
Let me juggle knives. Let me fail. Fall on to me
like rain; like autumn leaves; like shuriken.

I want to scream!
Ahhhhhhhhhhhh.........
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh................
I want to hit that high
high G, then A, then ultrasound.

Let glass break.
Let plastic crack.
Let wood rot.

I want to skinny dip in acid and radioactive waste.
Make me melt.
Make me glow.
I want to do all that
if I could just remove the ink you tattooed inside me.

Horrid Pie

Horrid Pie

I probably bite off more than I could chew.

Hungry once but now sick in the tummy

by that horrid pie that was

just so delicious.

Baked with 6 core ingredients

the pie was formed,

with only a tiny dash off pepper for the kick

in my face.

The oven was grinding my teeth down

and churning my gut as I waited.

Waited.

Got to eat it while it’s hot.

It should have been a sign when a drop of saliva

sizzled into nothingness on the pan.

But I dug in so deep so fast as if I used a shovel.

Burned my fingers. Burned my tongue.

And now I’m sick.

I thought you were the doctor but you were a

“Phoney!” in disguise.

I vomited and all you did was inch away

as slow as the winds in a hurricane

and didn’t even bother saying goodbye.

Past Dedication

It been months or maybe even a year and old songs have become unfamiliar to my hands. But yours... Maybe it was a good idea that my friends stopped me before because I play my past dedication like it was just yesterday.

Amber

02/08, we celebrate the end of our 5th month. We spoke about loads of things and I feel so close to you. As I go through our topics, I chance upon amber again and again. Although it has unhappy innuendos, I feel differently. 

Amber is the color of warmth. The comfort you bestow on me as I gaze into your eyes.

It has the colour yellow- the colour of youth- the excitement I feel while awaiting to meet you. 

It holds the colour red- the colour of love- the longing I feel when we kiss our goodbyes till the next time. 

I've not consulted you this, but I shall name the celebration of the beginning of our sixth month "Amber hearts" because I've nvr thought of a colour so highly till it came out of your mouth. Colours do not mean anything yet all hold meanings. And amber now means so much more when it is thought of alongside you. 

Flashing back

I'm flashing back and I keep flashing back. I'm still bewildered with what happened and why what happened. You apologized and I tell myself "it's ok, it's over." My throat is like Poland. Choking on the war between the two stronger powers of words and tears. 

And I keep flashing back- to the time when I looked for your shadow as I hear the dreadful "ping!"- to the time when I got up to get my slippers to chase after you. It was so easy, because my heavy distraught body was lifted by mom's angelic hands. I looked at her and shook my head. "I can't believe he did that"

My sister asked what happened. My dad said to go do some exercise. My mom objectified the situation. But I was a blank so "shut up!"

And I bawled my eyes out. 

My brother's simple gesture of tissue giving. My sister's little goodnight kiss. I smiled in my sleep. 

It's another work day again and I can't stop flashing back. 

I have another slice of you please

I'm starting to feel as though I may love you more than you know and more than you do to me. This is scary and I feel as though I need to reel my feelings in. Being utterly vulnerable to someone else isn't as good as I thought. It pays off when you see the other happy but we don't seem to be very happy all the time. I feel like we may fight more than I feel is necessary due to so many miscommunication. 

This isn't the first time I felt this way. We had fought quite abit a few months back. But at that time, I wasn't as invested in you as I am now. Then, it was easier to let go of you. But now, it would be like driving a stake into my chest. The fights did paid off we us knowing each other better and understanding more of ourselves.

I'm doubting how much it really paid off now since we're back to our little fights. I hate it. I hate them. It chokes me up with chains of attachment just thinking about it. 

You used to fear me having to take a 5min walk home back by myself but you're fine now with me going back myself in an hour journey. I do understand the long trips home you have to take after sending me. It's just rather sad that you no longer worry as much when I'm craving for your affection more. 

I desire your affection like a moth desires the flame of a candle. I seems self destructive but the joy of the light, your light, is... Perfect. 

I want you to hug me Everytime you see me like how I fantasize hugging you so tight when we meet. I want you to smother me with kisses like you are grooming me with love. I want you to not feel afraid to make fools of ourselves when we go out together. I want more. I want more of you.