I was running
pounding Reinprechtsdorfer Straße to your apartment
past the coffeehouse whose name I can't recall
(it begins with the letter "M")
past the shop displaying pink and white negligee

the black-blue skies circling my ankles beginning to feel like weights
I wasn't too sure if it were night or still day

'tis lack of day

light

It became sharper in a matter of seconds why I was running
I was running after you

You turned left to your apartment door
and with a crisp turn of the key
you were gone

I don't run after buses so I don't run after people
but I found myself running after you
and now here I am
consciously calling your name to the meaningless wood of a door

The intercom was one thing I never learned to conquer
like the many others
of driving
of Photoshop
of xlsx

A man was coming out of the apartment,
holding a big bag of laundry

Balancing his clothes and the heavy door,
he held it open



Vielen dank

Relief swam over me

Willkommen, he replied as he walked away

I don't speak German
Even upon T's return from Berlin
he asked me what the equivalent for welcome was

I had looked at him like he was crazy

Here I am
dreaming in German

You emerged shortly
You were unfazed
unfeeling
in an exhausted green coloured ringer shirt with a vintage print

Where are you going

You waited twenty seconds to reply
fumbling for an excuse
like searching for keys in your pocket

Going to meet Andrew, you said.

Where were you before this

You looked at me and didn't say anything
We both knew you didn't have to

at 650am in the morning

Bruce David, New Beginning

I have a thread
round each wrist
which I know I can unstitch
anytime I wish

Notes on a Suicide, Felix Cheong

I envy the cling of the shirt you wear that, even in daylight, can be indiscreet and trace your torso's outline and dare to wrinkle coquettishly with pagan heat. Imagine envying an innate thing, and losing my senses like a flaming wing of a meteor? Does a shirt have feelings or soul that I die to hold what it can hold? What does it care that a woman desires to wash it because it has felt the fires of your body and wants to inhale the warmth of the collar, even the stale earthly memory of wear and weave of a sleeve? What does it care that I envy the clasp of its pearly buttons that measure the time of our short lives with their upward climb,dressing and undressing you, unasked,leaning against your beating heart,while I who envied no other's lot stand silent, apart and jealous of cloth.

Envy (Yerance te)
Medakse (Translated by Diana Der-Hovanessian)

Sometimes I still see you even if you are no longer here

I still see you in your ratty clothes, a riot of kaleidoscope colors and the rattle of the beads of your necklace each time you toss your hair

I still see you wearing your length of skin, your soul radiating off you, floating in the
silver dashes of
a broken halo

I still see you where I can see only your face and the rest of you is nothing but a mass of light I cannot tear my eyes away from

They eventually disperse into fragments of nothingness and no matter how I try to build you back in my hands again, you disintergrate as though you were never real as though you were never here

Big Fish

For the second time
I am
enveloped by your plants
scrutinized by the Gods on your altars and temples
ascending upon the cemented steps

fascinated by the new puppies you've never seen
These are yours
all yours for the taking by some chance you were born into
but you aren't here

In the shrine of your room
purple, black and silver scream your name
I stand there in your absence
the colours permeate through the doors in my heart
and this silence is permanent

here is the mirror I cannot see my reflection in
and for that you were thorougly embarrassed because of my city girl upbringing

But this city girl smothered you in red cotton
and you caused her some friction against shiny metal anyway

I don't know your heart's thoughts
Even in a dream, we speak a different language
but I can't tell you

just how much I hope you don't break

your butterfly wings for ribs

and a village's soul
for the world, her seas

and the big fish

and if you're so smart tell me why are still you so afraid

would you be my...

it all looks so good from a distance but id tell you im the one

decoupage for apology

while choosing oil paints over aquarelle
you would speak to me in terms of your personal abstraction
you were broken
sometimes incomplete

so what is the story about oil paints

now, Sir is it about the quality
or do you prefer burying yourself in its opacity
- for its ability to divert the ashes of wrong strokes
and
mistakes,
pathetic choice of chroma


or perhaps just choice itself?

You and I both know
watercolors are honest and
would fail horribly in the nature of camouflage
our shameful selves need

so for you,
my paint strokes were a lousy, second rate ballet
I had no passionate for the maths of flax seed to paint ratio
so for you,
that youth and sexuality were nothing bigger than



an outre installation

Each time time you justified this
failure
you had the power to shatter me into pointillism

Each time you let your words curl around a chisel
that got the better of you
unto me

You reconstruct me into decoupage for apology

Pick up your receiver I will make you a believer

I write and read stories
This is like the one where the book is missing
and the hero has died in the morning

But God Isn't Dead and
Neither Are You

Ageless, ageless and I'm there in your arms

The welts of your scorn, my love, give me more
Send whips of opinion down my back, give me more

Well it's you I've waited my life to see
It's you I've searched so hard for

-Jeff Buckley, Mojo Pin

pearl says:
i dont want to live with a heartache for life
for us both joey
No girl should ever forget that she doesn’t need anyone who doesn’t need her- Marilyn Monroe

I say:

i think for self respect, i should agree with you but marilyn monroe is dead, she killed herself

probably cos she needed JFK but he didnt need her

so for that, i think we cant trust her

Tell me, what are you afraid of: Gone But Here with You, Zai Kuning

Some people are more drunk when they get a new handphone
Some people are more drunk than the drunken when they sell their art work
Some people are more drunk when they get a simple praise
Some people are more drunk when they are arrested
Some people are more drunk if they think they belong to some kind of thing hat shit
Some people are even more drunk when they get bad news of others
Some people get even more drunk when someone dies

I am afraid of people who are in love.
I am afraid of people whose heart are broke like fuck.
I am afraid of people who are blind searching without a stick.
I am afraid of people who are horny and dig something/anything.
I am afraid of people who want to be somebody.
I am afraid of people who are attention-seekers.
I am afraid of people who take shyness as a fashion.
I am afraid of people who are happy.
I am afraid of people who come to me and try to prove to me that they are better than me. Fucking assholes!
I am afraid of people who go around spreading news about humanity when they know only half of it
I am afraid of people who use their assets to suck up everything into them.
I am afraid of people who wear all black but their underwear white.
I am afraid of people who talk about doing good just so that others will see him as good.
I am afraid of people who try to convince me the way to be what I could be is their way to be.
I am afraid of people who suck up to something with no desire to be anything else but a sucker.
I am afraid of people who found religion and want to share that with me.
I am afraid of people who only want to be my friend because they think they can make use of me.

I am afraid of people who are so good at pretending nice.
I am afraid of women who want nothing but suck my dick.
I am afraid of women who think they are so fucking cool.
I am afraid of men who want to show how manly they are.
I am afraid of people who want to take care of children with little interest in education.

I am afraid of people who only know about money.
I am afraid and yes I have fear.
I have fear, I have fear not towards these people.
I have fear for my children, friend and family whom I could not protect.

I fear for them because I am a child.
Tell me who you afraid of?