acquired taste

i coloured a picture of a boy's hair with purple back in kindergarten because we ran out of black colour pencil. the teacher scolded me for it. she said that was nonsense.

if i were to meet her again today, i am going to punch her in the face. i am sure now she has a daughter with purple hair.

i lost a storytelling competition at the age of 15 in high school. my story was a simple life confession written by someone who has AIDS and was sexually abused by his gay parent when he was child. I lost to a story about a family of frog who took three years to cross a river.

perhaps i did not weigh in censorship factors in school environment.

i wrote compilation of poems to a paperback company who produced back-alley fictions, they asked me whether can my materials be used for school syllabus. i hanged up the phone and never look back since.

someone that i have cared for deeply over a span of years chucked me an abrupt disappearance just when i thought we can finally talk as adults. i am talking to you, the one in Siam. seriously at this age is a little tad immature, dont you think? all the notorious things that i could have said and hurled at her for being a coward. but i just couldnt bear the thought of hurting her. i do not gain anything by hurting anyone.

when you dealt with several rejections, you started believing you are a trash.

to put it elegantly, an acquired taste.

your own friends never really understood you. your smile is just a practise to appear civilised to the rest of the world.

you scribbled goodbye. goodbye. goodbye.
on your skin all over your body like tattoo.

and to those of you who liked what you read here, think Frankenstein.
think of that monster. the one that was cut open, sewn back together, torn apart again and put back together. now the stitches barely hold the pieces of lumps. all crazy and unfit.

all these writings come from that little piece of meat called Frankenstein.
i am happy that you liked what you read.

too much drama, i know.
of course, in real life my net worth is in millions.
my decent text-book life. but millions are full of zeros.
that is what they are.

to you in Siam. we are in our thirties now.
i am raising my white flag. stop running around.
let's deal with it.

and to the rest,
good day.

epilogue

there was a song.
it kept playing. and his was a lonely figure dancing to it.

all alone in the corner. nobody bothers to understand his quiet routine. he kept to himself most of the time. completely immersed in swaying his body to the soft beating of the music. but the picture was sorely incomplete.

he used to come here to listen to the songs that filled this place. he would sat there by himself and listened. his presence here was merely physical, he found himself transcended into the musical notes, one song after another. a girl came in one day and caught his eyes. she was a dancer. the one that looses herself in music too. she spent her time here dancing to the music played while he watched. one day she pulled him to the dance floor. she taught him to move in the music serenade. against the perfect lullaby. against the soft beating of her heart. she imparted life on him that day. the softness of her skin. the unmistakable scent of desire as two bodies trapped in the symphony of beautiful courtship.

one day she stopped coming. he waited. he could not dance the routine without her. he only knows how to move against her body. he responded well to her lead on the dance floor. he danced for her. and so he sat patiently waiting.

moons and years have passed since. one day he walked to the dance floor. he listened carefully to the music that was playing. he closed his eyes and imagined how she would have moved. how her dress would sway into the gentle tunes. and sometimes how she would pout her mouth playfully as he circled her nearer. he remembered her beautiful burst of laughter as she threw herself at him sometimes. slowly he moved his body to the music. he closed his eyes still. transported into a world where she was still before him, guiding his hand against her phenomenal moves. against this beautiful music.

and that was what he has become.
nobody knows whether she would show up ever again in this place. but he kept dancing in the corner. one song after another.

fiction

it has come to a complete circle.
she said the ending always mirrored the beginning.
one way or another it tends to reflect.
she called it karma.

if we were a fiction
it would have been beautiful.
i said.

and i woke up today
i found the memories itself has faded.
dissolved into a separate dimension.
detached. and unreal.

it has finally come to a rest.

soulmates

how long have we known each other
she whispered

i could not comprehend why it matters to some people.
the depth. breadth. and timing of feelings.
how can these earthly dimensions describe the intensity of emotion.
how do you measure a soul. how do you capture its essence.
how do you contemplate its play on life.
its confinement to perspectives. addictions to trivial entrapments.
the insatiable thirst to define the point of endings and beginnings.

i dont know.
maybe ever since this universe was just a ball of gas.

she smiled.

truth is. time is irrelevant to the whole context.
i was simply designed to love her.

it was raining heavily earlier today.
almost a storm, the downpour was magnificent.

i loved it.
it drowned away the rest of the world.
and the noises they made.
all the little insignificant things that they thought mattered.
all of them were lost. vaporised or drenched.
i could hear nothing but a curtain of solitude.
the speech of nature.

time was my only company.
it stood still. and mighty against them all.

the heavy rain continued.
we conversed. it was most civilised and intimate.
i found my questions answered
my conscience reflected. soothing echoes.
in the symphony of the rain.

then the rain stopped.
time rushes again. for life to begin.

aurora

she stared at me. perhaps with compassion. i could not see clearly past this darkness. it was still too early for twilight. but i felt her fingers tracing my face. soft and delicate. she wanted to comprehend. secrets. she thought i must have them hidden somewhere in these eyes.

what do you want from me

our bodies were touching but i could only feel coldness where our senses met. her hand rested against my heartbeat to my amusement. i could hardly believe it was still beating. i thought it has long dissolved into shades of melancholy. a silhouette of an empty distance. i wished i could tell her there was nothing left.

we spoke quietly. whispering intimately so that this earth would not hear us. in this hour we are the only existence. against the night sky and its fading stars. i could hear myself uttering these words to her pleasure. i was once again a lover. i felt her trembled against my skin. my lifeless touch.

she wanted me. the fire and tenderness forged by these kisses. she glowed into a spectacular sight. she reminded me of an evening star i have once loved. that has once swallowed and shattered me against her torrent suicidal wave. one that tore my soul into blackened pieces. ones that life no longer merged into.

she was still a spectacular sight. enchanting as the song that the wings of birds rose to. and she kissed me again. something in me wounded. i was held captive against this deserted moment. i tasted sincerity from her tongue. and her moist lips. her being where shadows and grief shrunk into nothingness.

sun rise

fiesta of life against the cold window. the sun rays was soft and gentle on her skin. i grew jealous as it feast slowly upon her beautiful skin like a painted sea of dessert rose. and sand dune curves. and i was the night sky that disintegrates each time the sun shines upon her boundless beauty. one that reflected from her soul like a dew on the grass.

my eyelids grew heavy. she was still there.
our fingers intertwined.

twinkle little star

i want to stop. chasing after you.
i wish to tire this time.
to let you finally leave. sailing away into horizon.

i do not want to over think. over analyse.
the thinking was overdone. the single fact blurred into shadows and thoughts.
i do not want to feel anymore than i should.
anymore than you want me to.

this time. i wish to stand still.
watching you disappear.
maybe wave a little.
waving goodbyes - God knows how many i have lost count.
waving hard as if that will be our last form of communication.
maybe it is.

i want to give you love
what you wanted.
i look forward to grant your wish.

i want to stop being there.
for you.

and i want you to turn around to witness the satisfaction
that my absence provides. if it makes you happy, love
i wish this will put a smile on your face.
forgive me. it was long due, i believe.

be happy for me.