Worded Life IV

Part I

Part II

Part III

I rewrote Worded Life IV. Why? Cause the old one wasn't genuine enough; it failed to represent the significance of this period of my life.

I wanted Worded Life IV to be as long as the previous parts; I wanted to beat around the bush before finally expressing my emotions; I wanted a satisfying climax to this phase of life of mine.

But I told myself that there will be no more pretense, for I am now my pre-2011 self, and my pre-2011 self is me.

In my previous blogposts, I used to distance my current self from that of pre-2011, as I deemed that period of my life to be immature, unknowing about "society" and "the world". But the "Lucid Lapse" was a period about me trying to make sense of a realistic life and my fantastical expectations, and to live a new life with that mindset; Melbourne provided me with that opportunity; yet I repeatedly claimed that I was socially exhausted after the whole experience, and I needed time off from society to recuperate. Yet five months have passed and I'm still like... this. Memories of Melbourne turned from beautiful, to bittersweet, to... tiring?

What went wrong?

Was I not already myself during Melbourne? For five years I've been telling myself that I couldn't be my true self as I didn't have the opportunity to live a new life; well that opportunity came at the beginning of this year, so what happened?

Well, I simply overextended past my true self.

I wanted people to know me not for me, but for the "good" qualities of me. I was afraid of showing weaknesses; I was afraid of displaying a different side of me; I tried to avoid any scenarios that would force me to leave the idealized image of myself. These are all warning signs that I was probably masking my true self, but till this day I still maintain that I wasn't masking anything during my time in Melbourne.

It all goes back to the talk about the "heart". I was afraid to leave the idealized image as I have not fully reconciled with my own heart. I do feel more emotions, less indifference, and was way more empathetic than, say, the "Worldly Desire" period, but I know one thing for sure; I wasn't my true self.

But I was close.

The five months after Melbourne were my cooldown periods after a hectic, yet memorable life in Melbourne, and my schedule during those months uncannily resembled that of pre-2011.

During pre-2011, I only had two priorities; complete my coursework and play video games. To some, it's the very definition of a waste of my youth, but to me, that schedule molded me into who I am today.

But the significance of this schedule lies in the reduced priority to socialize and be part of a larger community, which is the antithesis of everything I believed in during the "Worldly Desire" period.

However, I was happy, because for those months I completely stopped thinking and worrying about both people's judgement of me and my role in society.

After all, I just wanted to get good results and play video games, which is the definition of a simple, carefree life, just like my life pre-2011.

Back then, I was a happy-go-lucky kid in a high school world where social hierarchy meant everything.

Now, I am a happy-go-lucky adult in a grown-up world where all you need to find other good hearts is to have a good heart yourself.

Maybe that applied to the high school world as well, but I was too naive to notice that.

My true self is what I have always been all along, without all the fantasies and all the worldly desires; I did not need to find my true self, for I've been layering it with... everything.

Everything and anything that I thought would help me in being more socially accepted, in being a more likable human being, in playing a bigger role in a community.

But I had everything I needed to accomplish all that; I just had to get back to square one.

Complete the circle of life periods, which were some really long, really meaningful five years, and start to grow upwards.

If I were a seed and the circle of life periods were roots within the soil, then I have finally managed to shoot out the surface and observe the everlasting sunlight.

I've started my internship, and I've embraced it with my true self, the self that I used to shy away from, and I've never been happier; every interaction and every action felt so natural, and all the friends I've made here are so genuine, which is expected, because for the first time in a long while, I'm genuine.

Each and every one of the life periods I've been through contributed significantly to who I am today; they have matured my pre-2011 self into my current self, a person that can finally embrace the world with honesty and empathy.

With this, if any of you who are reading this personally knows me and have been offended by the turbulence of my previous life periods, I do apologize for all that.

But the roots of my life periods have came full circle and will be stored underneath the surface of the earth for the times to come; these roots, however, have shaped me and supported me as I grow towards the direction of the sun.

But what is my definition of the sun? That'll be answered when and if I have the answer.

Either that or I'll just give up trying to figure out metaphorical stuffs like these and just focus on living the realest life.

Who knows? I might even forget that these roots existed.

But I doubt so, for these roots are parts of the symbolic nature of my life.

Symbolic Nature

Real worlds are reborn in this
unaging societal norm, serene
unkilled crimson cloudy arms
weeping saltily into all things
fragmented in the wonderland
of my reshaped mind, cleansing
the teary crevices on my puzzled
armored angel, shielding my heart
from the unskilled bites of untamed
frowning, traumatized beasts from the
lightless jungle, now on fire and burning
away all my broken desires, now flooding
the unspoken, massacred, yet responsibly
intelligent village, full of graduated adults
pointing fingers at the snakes and elephants
rotting in mind and soul, but a smooth baby
physically, giving birth to leaders with hollowed
heads, munching on delicious brains, salivating

Truly
what do we crave for?

Worded Life III

Part 1

Part 2

Ain't life just the most interesting thing?

I have been living in Melbourne for nearly five months now, how surreal is that? Me, a formerly egoistic, unpredictable, apathetic, lazy, bewildered loner living in some foreign place alone, for five months, surrounded by foreign people? How is that even sane?

But I was excited, for I knew that change was coming; for I knew that this experience will redefine me. It's a new, temporary world that I could explore the depths of my boundaries and humanity, a world optimized for five months of experimentation, and five months of searching for myself.

Five months to humanize my broken mind.

So temporary, yet so everlasting.

Continuing from part 2:

Worldly Desire: Absolute Zero (February - April)

Was I ready to start it all over again?

All the bonds I've formed thus far were well within my comfort zone; I was in my own country, speaking very Malaysian English, embracing the cultures I've been exposed to since I was born. I was in an environment where everything was conditioned for me to do my best in terms of academics and social life. I did rather well in the former, but I was never really a social butterfly. One of the reasons was the lack of a proper heart, which stemmed from the shadows of my past. It helped that I was a very comfortable loner; some people can't handle staying in their rooms all day, but I was (and am still) fine; in fact, I needed (and still need) lots of personal time. 

In the past, I would completely reject all social interactions (except essential ones) when I "didn't feel like it". But I couldn't do that during the exchange program, for I knew I would be living on campus, in a large hall with over two hundred complete strangers. If I do not want to sleep next door to complete strangers, I would have to make friends, but to make friends I would have to "feel like it".

No excuses. I have to force myself to socialize, interact with people, understand the lives of others, or these five months of experimentation opportunity would go to shit.

So I arrived in Melbourne. I checked into my hall. I slept. And I woke up. It was the beginning of the two weeks of hall orientation, jam-packed with so many events that the orientation schedule comprised more than two pages. I've eventually came to know that the hall committee planned eighty-nine events this semester. And I'm proud to say that I did not let my five months go to waste.

End of post.

But Alvin, where's the three hundred paragraphs and those huge walls of text like your previous posts? I absolutely love reading your posts!

Truly, this would've been the end of it if all I did was study and think about life. No, I had to break my boundaries, I had to leap out of my comfort zone. It was an "absolute zero" experience for me, when past events and previous impressions of me no longer mattered.

There was no turning back. This was one of my strongest desires I had since high school ended; to start anew, at absolute zero.

So I spoke.

"Hi, I'm Alvin," with a firm handshake and unwavering eye contact. It helps that I never really needed to repeat my name, thanks to those pesky little chipmunks that everyone seemed to know of.

But that was it. I struggled with keeping up conversations, for I never needed to. I was never all that interested in actively meeting people, for I was too comfortable in my own world. Even during the previous "Worldly Desire" chapters, when I claimed to have blended into society, I placed myself too high up a pedestal, so that didn't count. Back then, when society did not accept me, I was too quick to push the blame to them. At absolute zero, in a society away from my home country, stripped away from everything that defined me, I realized that it was because I lacked a heart.

Now, I've been exploring the "heart" ever since last year, but I kept subconsciously repressing it as a defense mechanism. I was mentally weak, and at that time I'd rather not have true friends than to risk having my heart broken again.

As if I did not already hate attachments enough, my past relationship continuously pushed me away from the heart, for there were issues (of which I will not mention here) that affected me to the psychological core, and forced me away from the heart. By relieving myself of that responsibility, I not only presented myself with a fresh start, but also removed the restrictions that blocked me from contacting the heart.

And thus, it was absolute zero.

Autumn was a weird one. At that time, the season was still classified as summer, yet the nights were chilly and the depressing mood of winter slowly started to seep in; like a balance between two extremes, this exchange experience will assist me in discovering my balance; the inner competitiveness and studiousness, with the adventurous and edgier side of me.

Episodic Series is the realization that every day is a new episode, a new chance, and a new life, to break boundaries and explore beyond my comfort zone.

People there were nice, but I struggled with putting my heart into my words and actions, and this is what caused others to lack a heart. In other words, people can feel if you're real, or if you're just faking it all.

To feel if others are being fake or not, is a skill I lacked, as I had no need to, for in the previous "Worldly Desire" chapters, even though I spoke so highly about society, in the end, the questions about pretense and realness were all directed to myself.

I was far, far too high up the pedestal, and absolute zero instantly rid me of this level indifference.

To others, we are all just "people". What differentiates "friends" from "people"?

There is no time to be selfish. Pride is the murderer of the self. Some claimed they hated to "conform" to society, that they are feverishly sticking to being "themselves".

"Nobody can change me."

And I was one of those people.

But throughout the last five years, I've been subconsciously changing to cater to society. I've grown from a depressed, timid, self-loathing loner to...

...this.

I've dragged myself into childish fantasies to cater to  society's immaturity. I've forced an indifferent, unemotional personality into myself to cater to society's apathy. I've forged many other personalities in myself to cater to society's various faces. I've strongly advocated myself as an "artist" to cater to society's need for talents. And the previous chapters of "Worldly Desire" had me desiring change itself to cater to society's need for change.

But at absolute zero, society doesn't need any of those.

Why do animals congregate? Why do fishes swim on schools and why do bees fly in swarms?

Why was the ability to "talk" still part of our gene pool?

Humans are born to be part of society. We can fervently stick to being "ourselves", but to change for society is to expand our opportunities, to understand the hearts of others, to tolerate the flaws of others, and the celebrate the achievements of others.

It opens up the world for us.

Society needs a "friend", or we'll be nothing more than that successful, intelligent, yet ultimately uninspiring and unsociable person on the streets.

What is this realization? This is the complete opposite of everything I've advocated for, that we should always discover "ourselves" within ourselves.

But can we instead find "ourselves" within society?

To study overseas used to be impossible. To live independently used to be impossible. To survive five months in a building full of foreign people used to be impossible.

To actually feel sad that you'll be leaving Melbourne in a few months time, and you'll be missing all the great people you've met and all the memories you've formed? Used to be impossible.

But the exchange program changed all of this.

It did. It really did. And it felt so surreal. A temporary pause in continuity has permanently altered my life course. This feels all too much like a dream, like it can be discarded, forgotten, yet this dream changed me, as if the conflicts I had between reality and fantasy were starting to settle down and accept each other.

This is the lucid lapse.

The Lucid Lapse (April - Present)
In the past, I've fantasized so much that I was essentially living in my fantasy. One of those fantasies was to explore the world, meet new people, live life in absolute zero.

Frankly, I did not live life in Melbourne in "absolute" zero, for I had friends from Malaysia coming over with me. I wasn't in some totally strange place, for both Monash campuses (Melbourne and Malaysia) basically run on the same core system; the only real difference being the environment and lecturers. But to me, who relied on the presence of a large-scale comfort zone to explore my boundaries (most notably during the "Worldly Desire" chapters, when I struggled to overcome my excess pride), living in a hall full of foreign people was an absolute zero experience, as it was my home for five months, and "home" is where I recharge from dealing with society. When my home is society, that's when I knew it would be a challenge.

This explains the sudden decline of poems in the past five months (except the month of May, in which I participated in the Malaysian Poetry Writing Month, more on that later). As spending too much personal time kinda ruins the whole meaning of the student exchange experience, I pushed myself to socialize as much as I possibly could; every time I felt socially exhausted, I would get myself back together and start talking with people again. It's not as easy as it sounds, but it wasn't nearly as difficult as I would've thought; last time I assumed that forced socialization would basically mean pretense, but then I realized that I wasn't "forcing" most of the time, socialization just happened naturally.

Of course, pretense was certainly present from time to time, but with my state, I knew that pretense, in itself, is a product of experimentation. Remember, I was an amateur in societal communication, for previously I did not feel the need to actively meet new people. In the "Worldly Desire" chapters, I viewed pretense as a roadblock, but due to my lack of societal experience, the roadblocks were everywhere. I couldn't progress. So my societal skills remained very, very mediocre (and even that's pushing it too far).

But pretense is a speed bump. If I had to pretend, most of the time, it's not because of a serious flaw in my societal understanding or my communication skills, but instead a minor lack of compromise between the expectations of myself an others. My societal wavelength usually does not even come close to the wavelengths of others, meaning that I usually struggle to keep up with topics, or to follow the conversation pace, or to initiate topics that are of interest to others.

Pretense is temporarily altering my wavelength to resonate with others. However, this does not always work, as too much of an alteration will mentally strain myself, and society can read mental strains.

But societal wavelengths are mainly controlled by the heart, so, more reasons to embrace the heart then.

It took me a while, but it came to a point when I actually got sad that I was about to leave my friends behind when I get back to Malaysia. To feel genuine sorrow about friendship was something I've almost never experienced before, for what was my previous life but myself and all my fantasies and all my prides?

I enjoyed the moments spent with society.

But there's one more obstacle.

I've been hiding inside the world of poetry ever since 2011. The "Worldly Desire" chapter exposed me to the real world, but there was always a part of my subconscious that preferred to hide behind the protection of words.

Even though I've enrolled into an engineering degree, there was always a part of my subconscious that kept reassuring me, "you'll be able to write for a living!"

I've overestimated my abilities, and the Malaysian Poetry Writing Month has shot my ego down. I tried writing a poem a day, and I had to force it out my ass. I had no inspiration.

I wrote five poems. Only the first one had any resemblance of a soul in it.

And I realized something. The real me... isn't a writer, nor a poet, nor an artist.

If the real me were one of them, five months of exchange experience would be enough for me to produce a plethora of worded art.

But like many other artists, my abilities are its best when there's inspiration.

I was too busy living a "real" life in Melbourne to be inspired.

But what is reality? Haven't I been living a "real" life all along? What's so special about Melbourne that made it seem more "real" than the other stuffs I've done in life?

Let's talk about dreams. I've always been a heavy dreamer. On most nights, I go to bed not to relieve my exhaustion or to charge up for the next day, but I do so to explore this weird, wonderful, yet blurry, fragmented place known as dreams. It's the only time in my life where I feel invincible, powerful, and in control of everything.

Yes, I'm a lucid dreamer.

Lucid dreaming is this magical state where the dreamer is fully aware that he/she is in a dream, and therefore can actually alter various aspects of his/her dreams.

Now, I don't mean to say that all of my dreams are lucid, but my subconscious is powerful enough to take note of "dream" signs. One of the biggest examples is how I can actually "prevent" bad dreams from occurring; I see a scenario that will most likely lead to a horrifying outcome, and I forcefully alter it, or completely distance myself from that dream, or even use some super powers to just annihilate the entire dream and let my subconscious bring me to a new dream.

Just yesterday night, I had five consecutive dreams, and immediately after that I had a sixth dream; I came across a list detailing all five of the previous dreams, as somehow, during those five dreams, I've been writing a diary about them so that I could remember them.

I didn't actually write a diary during those five dreams, because, one, I wasn't lucid during those dreams, and two, why the hell would I write a diary? Yet on the sixth dream, not only I felt that it was real, but I've also recognized the fantastical nature of the previous five dreams. There's even a quick "flashback" during the sixth dream that saw me actually writing a diary during those five dreams.

But this kind of "layered" lucidity is interesting. Why?

It's been two months since I've left Melbourne. Now, whenever I think back, the whole exchange experience actually felt like a dream.

One of the key characteristics of dreams is its surrealism, the feeling that some things are out of place, the curiosity to explore a messed-up, yet ultimately beautiful new world.

Melbourne was that new world.

To live by myself for five months, to meet foreign people and form bonds with them, to visit places that once existed only in pictures and my wildest imagination.

To socialize with complete strangers, knowing that if I screw up, at least I wouldn't be too embarrassed, because the exchange experience is temporary.

To socialize with complete strangers, knowing that if I formed bonds, well...

They might last forever.

But that's a conflict, isn't it?

The exchange experience is a temporary escape; a safe place to discover myself, to interact with people and the environment, without fear of repercussions, or judgement, or even embarrassment, all because it is temporary.

Like a dream, I felt invincible, powerful, and in control of everything.

Yet, unlike dreams, the memories of the Melbourne, they actually last forever, don't they?

I'll be truthful, even though I've been through so many periods of life where I've been maturing, understanding more about humanity and overall being a better person, even though the "Worldly Desire" chapters had me finally embracing society after years of isolation, I still feared judgement.

We do not fear judgement in itself, we fear the possibility of that very same judgement following our footsteps for the rest of our lives.

Yet, the magical thing about the exchange experience is, like dreams, what happens there stay there.

It's a struggle, even to this very moment, for me to embrace the reality of the experience. Why? Because I actually formed bonds there.

I've made great friends, interacted with splendid people, and has became a person that actually made impacts (even if it's just a little) in the lives of others.

These things last forever.

Yet, until today I still believe that, had I not treat the entire experience as temporary, had I not believe in myself more than I ever did, had I not (temporarily) rid myself of the fear of judgement, had I not pushed social boundaries, there would be absolutely nothing to take away from this experience.

At absolute zero, remnants of my past pride still remained during the first months of the exchange experience. It was tempting, to kick off an absolute zero by placing myself on a pedestal. At that time, I was greedy for control, and I was an addict of making an impact. I wanted fame. I wanted people to remember me.

Yet, that elevated pride did not last long. Years of maturation caught up on me, and reminded me that, indeed, being forcefully extroverted, putting on masks, and injecting myself into the lives of others were never my things. I am not that kind of person.

Who am I? I'm just like everybody else. Humility and empathy were two traits that I've always been trying to escape from; to me, they were the whole reason behind the "Shivering Shadows" chapter; too much empathy towards the most insignificant things, and being overly humble to the point of appearing weak.

But this ain't high school.

Most of us don't even want to control shit. We just wanna live our lives in a carefree manner, letting the world work as it is.

And these are the people I've been meeting throughout my whole life. The "society" that I've encountered are just a bunch of ordinary people who just want to get on with their lives.

A simple truth.

I stopped overthinking. Of course, my poetic mind will never die, but I stopped trying to find meanings for everything. I just wanna live life.

To truly live in the present.

There's no point in understanding everything. There's no point in overthinking.

Yet until today, the exchange experience has never lost its lucidity.

But who is to judge? This is the one life that I will go through.

I'll appreciate my fantastical mind and my real life, as they're all parts of me.

But is the question about who I am even relevant anymore? That, in itself, is overthinking, isn't it?

Even this whole post is overthinking, no?

But to overthink about overthinking... seriously, who the hell cares?

This is me. This is the real me. And I'll live life as it is.

But wouldn't I end up being exactly like the society that I once feared and loathed?

So what?

I'm living life more happily than I ever was, smiling more sincerely and speaking more honestly than I ever dared.

And when life gets tough, I could always revisit the best time of my life, and know that in the end...

I'm Alvin, and no dream will ever change that.

The Lucid Lapse: Revisit

A story so lifelike

with all the lives I've lived for

and lived through

and lived with

all are now the truest life

when those songs are truthfully

ringing into my dreamlike ears

serenading who I was

and who I am

or what I am

will look back at the temporal pause

the mesmerized nature of my heart

to live in such a

very very empty room

bare and naked, yet

that was all I ever wanted

as the songs lifted me up

into the realest sense of

falsehood and self-mockery

but all those fantastical smiles

and all those practical miles

that I've marched through

not unlike the freest human

not unlike the sweetest soldier

it was like

I was in a trance for the entire time

could not escape

but that was furthest from my mind

never once in my thoughts

I would live in a dreamlike reality

a real-life dream

a lovely little monster in me

has died and rose again

yet containing maybe none

of its former darkness

maybe it's just me

maybe it's the temporal nature of

how the world revolves

how I revolve around people

and how people revolve around me

and how people

with all their ignorance and apathy

are indeed

the most beautiful things

I might revisit this place

but until then

let us resume this episode

of a newly-formed subconscious

The Lucid Lapse: One

But the drinker is still pure
and of unstained whiteness
even though they can no longer drink us
now rotting, sickly humans
former spiritual saints
who did not roar at ourselves
day after day, night after night
as the night becomes day
in the eyes of the drinker
nothing obstructs the rightly judgmental sight
of the knowledgeable drinker
for the drinker eats no longer
and sleeps no longer
for they sustain life through the willing
consumption of hot spiritual soup
as if they are married to the purity
of the soup's humanly essences
and the lack of righteous perfume
and the presence of the most human heart
imperfect, but not inhuman
for the drinker has understood it all
since the beginning of time
that the married human and the drinker
used to be two words
but the married human only looks at their
perfect heart
as we approach their prideful, icy heart
we realize that it has only one vein
and no arteries
to contain the heart with perfection
and to not waste any contained perfection
for the married human is perfect
in every way that is conceived by them
and them alone
while the drinker continues drinking
their spiritual soup of humble humans
of truly enlightened humans
but what about us
we are trapped in the married human's heart
and will forever be a mere memory
temporarily resurfacing for unreal air
as the married human continues to trick
all the other progressive humans
into their sea of light
but what about us
we are but a memory
to be reminisced during a lucid lapse
to be forgotten for convenience
will the spiritual soup ever have its last drop
will the drinker ever be sick of soup
but what about us
we are not even part
of the married human's perfect dreams
their heart has no place for us
if they were to ever love us
adultery, it's a sin against progression
the world needs to be married to ideas
and convenience is what kills us all
and it is only during that time
when the married human finally looks
at the spiritual soup
and becomes a drinker, eternal bliss
but what about us?

- End

The Lucid Lapse: Two Words

Immerse our pure bodies

in the hot spiritual soup

of unstained whiteness

swim and rejoice with our joyous shrieks

and our lovely beating hearts

as the drinker of the spiritual soup

will witness the willing repentance

of all our wrongdoings

as we shimmer in the boiling soup

a glimmer of light shines upon us all

and all of us progressive humans
chase after the light
like those intelligent, smiling dolphins

as if a tiny cotton string

from the underclothes of a married human

is tugging our hearts all too lightly

to ensure that we are mere volunteers

not the sinners' slaves

but who else, but us, are the sinners?

We dive deeper into the sea of light

leaking out of the married human's eye

like molten dreams

as the spiritual soup is now far from us all

far from the married human's all

yet the drinker is still the drinker

of the mouthwatering soup

the sea of light is now the

sea of sweat

for we tireless humans are beginning to

grow a diseased heart

but the married human has a perfect heart

and that is known to all of us

measly little humans

so with our joyous shrieks

and our stupid beating hearts

we persist through the story of the

married human and their marriage

with their very own heart

their very perfect heart

and we ask ourselves

do we truly understand the truth of the

married human and the drinker

the drinker of us all

yet we progressive humans choose to

chase after the heart of the married human

while the humble humans

are still the spiritual soup

and one with the drinker

The Lucid Lapse: Equinox

I see a tall human
towering above the cruising planes
the flow of white clouds separating
forming a halo around their abdomen
floating above the head of a
sky blue mountain
as the tall human raises their arm
and all their fingers tear off
twisting and turning
contorting their way down to the
darkened city below
shielded from the sun
by the bare-skinned tall human
but is there really a sun?

Society behind the tall human
could have seen the sun
but what do we know
we refuse to even look at the
society behind the tall human
for they are
the society behind the tall human
if the tall human does not even
want to look at them
why should we?

There was a time
when the tall human was like us
they had a very human heart
they loved and cared for
their preys, packs, predators
and they were a friend of all
but then they found
the weakness of the heart
a white string wound around
all of our human hearts
such a pure, unblemished form of
direct control
the human spent days and nights
understanding the potential of the
society behind the strings
until days become nights
in the eyes of society
up, up, there they go
shot to the sky, yet still very grounded
they were like us
so why have they grown tall?

Living within the nation-spanning shadow
of the tall human
memories of the light
slowly slipping away
yet, we wonder
if the sun rises and sets
wouldn't the sun go over the tall human
wouldn't we be able to witness it?

Or has the tall human
consumed the sun?
Or has the tall human
became the sun?

Every time we fall asleep
in our very nostalgic dreams
we reminisce the days long gone
when we were all on similar pedestals
with the tall human
sitting on the same thrones
living very human lives
but ever since the day
the tall human gained
preys, packs, predators
we soon realized that we were our own
preys, packs, predators

The Lucid Lapse: Dark Nostalgia

The whitish blue aurora
in my garden of yellow and green
slapping my heart with thoughts
from an unshakable yesterday
as I wander through the familiar house
as I wonder if I could ever relax
the mouthed library spoke,
"How, now that you know,
will you be able to escape
the vineyards of your past?
Why, now that you cry
as you nearly slipped off the balcony,
will you still choose to wilt
like those wailing daisies?"
as it now consumes me
as it bites me with its
prideful teeth and
knowledgeable worries
unjustifiable worries
the more I reason
the more I become food

The beds are not for sleeping
as they are red, like my blood
seeping through the cracks of my heart
dripping into the crystal clear pool
bought by the wealth of my pride
my former self
as the dead baby dies once more
as the familiar house burns once more

I can no longer handle
the mirror image of who I was
what I will become
can no longer handle
the image of who I am

Isn't everything but
a role-playing dream
to wonder so much
yet we are still humans

The Lucid Lapse: Solstice

My fingers stink
as I dipped them into muddy rainwater
a pool of those worded lies
all their but's, if's, however's,
molted into liquid gold
like an armor on my charred body
yet the sun is at my navel
where is the cord?

The doctors watched me cry
they were relieved when I cried
for I was laying ovarian eggs
filled with daddy birds
and mommy snakes
oh, they hatched, my dear
the grassland has grown wings
as I slither through the mud
and I absorb the sun
while the earth smiles at me

As me and the earth
fly through the starry dark
hand-in-hand
speaking wise words about life
"What do you want for breakfast?"
"Did you sleep well?"
Jupiter smacks us apart
with its ballsy ball body
and I am on earth again
crying for a supernova
an impeding supernova
a second Big Bang
a restarted dream

A black hole envelops
all our future bonds
yet someday
within the stars
I will be a meteor
as we rain through the
brightest form of dark
for I, am now we

The Lucid Lapse: Phantom Wings

Crossed my arms and legs

waiting for tonight

when the city lights dim yet brighten

the ghastly hearts and the drunken souls

the drugged businesses and the

semen bowls

and the trees may now fall

onto the orange-lit street

where humans with bottles

and humans with syringes

are like rats on the moon

a floating lightweight

and once again

show me what it is like

to live like bacteria

when the dogs have diarrhea

on this shit-filled area

The grassy field is dark at night

lit by clouded moonlight

those in homes saw me weep

came out and watch me weep

yet no light was lit

none will want to see my face

for what am I

but a measly little earthworm?

Born inside the earth

burrowing
changing the landscape of earth
yet what am I
but lunch for the baby birds
fed by the mother bird
after watching the father
with a bullet hole through
its plastic-filled intestines
speak the kindest words
"our children will grow up
to be forever free
yet the only ones who hate us
are the two-legged creatures
who built airplanes
yet cannot fly"

When I open the door
to my bedroom
it's like the same dream
once again
over again
never ending my pain

The Lucid Lapse: Everlast

I fade into the background
the plains of cows
the wolves by the shores
the purplish birds or skies
and the minor itch
in the lion's heart

The heat of a vapid field
but fulfilling for the wild
leave I could but I won't
for the leaves are still dancing

The trees are smilingly whirling
yet the monkeys still chase after me
as if I'm a primitive prey
an ancestral target
meant to be fossilized like those
pterodactyls
will this dream vanish
before they wear off their welcome
before I'm welcomed
by the chirps and the quacks
by the roars hisses buzzes
by so many yet so little
by the realest revelation
or will I reach resolution
by sitting and watching
those cows dying on the plains
or the plain background
or will lovely mother nature
naturalize the moon surface
of my heart?

I keep scratching
but the itch will not leave me
alone

Even as the meteors
start to rain like their words
and their faces
I still sit and watch
those monkeys chasing after me
but when they are scorched
and I am scorched
the itch still persists
like the realest dream

Conservation of Energy

Written as part of the Malaysian Poetry Writing Month.

Today, I managed to define energy

They called me smart
I was a lazy ass
I was in an accident
As I couldn't drive
I was waiting for grandma
For a long time
She came
Grandma drove me to the hospital
A kind girl with a wedding ring in the car
I said hi
We fell in love

Grandma had difficulties driving
Me and the girl carried grandma
To the back seat
I drove, slowly
The girl's boyfriend came over
With his new car
He let me drive his car
So I did
I had trouble controlling the wheel
I swerved
I swerved so hard I became smarter
And I developed a machine
With tentacles
And the tentacles hammered the car
The boyfriend was shocked
He died

The girl was furious
She chopped me into pieces
With a butcher knife
I was diced but I still had emotions
My ghost was alive
I haunted her
And she realized I was important
Because I developed a machine
With tentacles

Grandma praised me

Look Over There

Written as part of the Malaysian Poetry Writing Month.

Sparkle in the sky
a red-lighted overture
dreams rain onto us
drip drop splatter
slam bang boom
we're alive yet dead
as the dreams break us apart
our hearts melt into dreams

And I'm sitting here
wishing I could be the light
in the house over there

lost words

Written as part of the Malaysian Poetry Writing Month.

the whirlpools of dust

drowning all my "help me"s

as every word that has been spoken

disappearing... what word?

the entrance to my world

blank

the words of others are lost in me

but where are my lost words?

dark dark dark I see nothing I perceive only colors the flashing light burn my eyes burn me tear me apart someday sometimes I do not or am not clear why I do this but they always told me to do it so I do it and when I think I'm me they push me down and they choke me and they tangle me in their lonely webs they do not want to see me be me they only want the me they want but things aren't going so well aren't they how are you what is life to you no no no no no no no no no no no no please stop this is killing me this is hurting me why do things happen why can't I just be alone no no no why stop stay away don't you understand I'm using simple words so that you understand but no you still try to push me down and beat me and splatter me onto your damn wall murder me blast me tear me apart

where's me

almost

Written as part of the Malaysian Poetry Writing Month.

purple flash of light

laminated onto my lavender heart

lean on me with your stalker body

a missing thorn underneath

honeyed underneath

sucking the rose room

the nectar coffin

for our vines to tangle

red blue yellow neon sunlight
photosynthesize

as the shrieks

oh now they're gone

wanted to say your shrieks

conduct my blooming dance

as the thorns riffle the bare

you blend into the clouds
the moon and sun

but who are you

who the fuck are you

all of you i have memorized

all the black red lines dots
and the green purple leaves

all the white lies

i have kissed and licked

and tickled and rubbed

and that fucking tickles

don't call for the sun

please

let my life be purple forever

let my lavenders wilt

let me out

from underneath

i'm almost there
almost

Chronicles of Madam Green Grill

Written as part of the Malaysian Poetry Writing Month.

A road parade

swimming out of formation

such bad children!

But now you see

the dead children

drunk by their birthers' love

when the moonlight bows

to the public cremation

of republic addiction

such bad legislation!

The parade was halted

by the mother of fathers

Madam Green Grill

trees rooted to her teeth

her soiled lips fertilize us all

as she grills her leaves

and withers for us all

until we are dead children

she attends our cremation

though unneeded for green nation

Madam Green Grill

she only wants our attention

so here's our detention

under the fading moonlight

as the trees become mother of mothers

but the dark clouds drool

when she whispers, sweating

"My mothers and fathers

the autumn will now end

have you realize it?

You are all my leaves."

Stars of the World

Messy hair over spilled tea

slamming my head

onto the blanketed table

as the spider on my shoulder

shakes its head until it dies

while questioning with a webbed mouth

"why do you look outside?"

but the window is a mirror at night

I see myself and I see the world

I see the stars falling onto me

Fattening my heart with junk words

like vomiting speech bubbles

as the snow are now leaves

as the flow cannot leave

from my life as a leaf

a webbed leaf

the artistic impression of the spider

by the mirror window

it crawls into my nostrils

and I breathe the webbed life

On the day I grow eight legs

the aliens will lick my shoes

they will live in my cobweb

and I will bow to them

because spiders are future aliens

so just let me breathe

after spilling some of my tea

a goodbye to passing time

over a blanketed table

and a spider exits my throat.

Death of the Sun

So this is the night,
a pitch-black space with stars ahead
as the city rises when I sleep
the country, like faraway galaxies
blink, bling-bling, ultimately boring
as the aliens wander in the dark
these two-eyed, one-brained creatures
crawling through space and time
brightening the night
with a blight tonight

And this is the bleakness of life
when the night becomes white
or grey, or so colourless
that blood loses its red
as the aliens bathe their spirits
with the ghosts of themselves
as I stay bedridden
watching the world twist and turn
a white light pierced through the window
it's hope, guardian of eternal sleep

And the aliens, they weep
their blood, through the window it seeps
as they scream for sweet little hope
just a bit more hope
just a bit more...
but a wave of fire consumes the world
a light source not from the sun
as artificial as the machines in them
as they combust into ashes of hope
and this is the end of the world.

Cupful of Eyes

Filter your designation
good tea is a good song
sips of the blackest tea
we're friends with coffee
float to our destination
good tea is brewed too long
young and old, deepest sea
wild cars are set free

Three doors and tree floors
and I'm sitting on a lonely chair
wild cars wheeze, drivers' hair
suffocating youth, dissipating air

The spirit of the outside air
going through a life, now fair
the beating heart's lair
with a caffeinated pair

They flew in
through the open windows

The world speaks of war
and the mountains' daily roar
as I sit in the coffee house
all the chirps in a blouse
the windows are my earthly eyes

a filter from the outward lies
a coffee house with blood outside
and the cups we laid out, lied.

Absolute Zero: Person on the Streets

"Tummy aches

oh, you poor little kid

crying because you're hungry

for a twenty-year job experience

you will starve to death

simply because you're poor

poor and stupid and poor

go beg on the streets."

Humanity at absolute zero

when offered a free rose

denied that a tree rose

from the seeds of your glee hose

ugly as your wee pose

like you have a pee nose

the road that three chose

to your absolute zero

Hungry for survival

we're all poor little kids

smashing our heads

onto a fresh loaf of bread

drinking good wine

and shitting fresh grapes

awaiting spring to come

at absolute zero

The frost is now gone

but there's always an excuse

the summer's so cold

the autumn's so hot

a reason to not fight

a reason to fall back

At absolute zero

we will all burn

A person on the streets

screaming intelligible gibberish

bla ya seh lo

gu reh wi lo

"Blast 'ya away

into absolute zero

good riddance

we're all lowly scums."

Absolute Zero: Episodic Series

Sore throat and aching muscles
as we painfully walk up the green hill
as our knees bend outwards and sideways
as the flames at the peak turn into ice
a flowery land atop an iceberg
a miracle for us to fly to the stars
as the stars are ice, gas and flame
it's absolute zero, never win this game

Seeping through the dusk and dawn
the sacred horizon, tired, it yawns

I fell on my knees
on the pebbled red carpet
the next time it'll bleed
an absolute hero

Staring out the window
a land of blue and ice
a frozen lake, a bloodied hill
a polar bear, naked and dead
as the blackbirds fall like snow
and the goldfishes swim like a painting
like a tearful piece of art
conceived at absolute zero

The lovely little ants
their deaths mean nothing
for their numbers are absolute
and their strength is absolute

And everything in this world
will soon turn to frost
stay tuned for the next episode
of absolute zero.

Absolute Zero: Autumn

Walk walk walk

trees collapse into rain

fly through the stratosphere

burst through the coldest roof

mutate icicles

and lick some popsicles

with an resolute sickle

at absolute zero

We're the heroes of the ice age

sitting on a chair

sipping on coffee

as the chirps break our hearts

green and purple forests

all frozen to the leaves

and a flood of absolute zero

burned the frost

Light in dark snow

night in day's flow

graveyard of shivers

cold, oh so very cold!

frostbitten brain

and hypothermic heart

the second ice age begins

at absolute zero

Numb at the toes

and the fingers can't move

talk talk talk

until the lips fall off

as this is a walk

into a cold dark place

It was the autumn wind

at absolute zero.

Kids

The timber's limber, slimmer, swimmer
greener, we're freer, leeches of glimmer
weepers creeping behind the seekers
we kids are but the adults' peekers

Shiver, shiver, bathed in glitter
River, river, we watch you slither
Wither, wither, all are winners
No one will be fraudulent sinners

Kids these days
with our blank slates
flaunting to adults

Kids these days
with our fragmented thoughts
piecing the puzzle of adults

Kids these days
will ponder
"Aren't we all just kids these days?"

Artistic Impression II

Part I

My glass dice and a game of chess

the cloaked curtain sweeps my knight

the grounded worm and its pet bird

snakes are windy, drakes are minty

a taste of myself

the scent of my art

and stories are interesting

and songs are entertaining

and poetry is boring

and poetry is boring

A stuffed puppy breaks the cup

termites chew on metal

the fans are spinning knives

cooling me, maiming me

heating me, maiming me

a video game controller

stuffed into my eye sockets

and all of them are silent
they used to laugh at me
and now they can't speak

A wooden television

a globe of the moon

spinning

destination is here!

I build a foam rocket

I fly to the destination

took me twenty lifetimes

but I did it

I accomplished what they want me to

but where's me?

Brain transplants

or body transplants?

Heart transplants

or body transplants?

Living the lives of others

or body transplants?

People will never understand

or body transplants?

An undressed chicken

or a naked dog?

The undressed chicken

befriends the naked dog

Sorry, adults only

aren't we all kids?

Sorry, adults only

but please listen to me

A flying book

shot to the ground

a flying bird

it has wings, so it's free

free to roam the world

free to shit on heads

free to roam the world

and fly to the moon

free to roam the world

and get body transplants

free to roam the world

sorry, adults only

And the reader is now bored

and the reader is now silent.

Lord of Nightmare

(A remake of my very first story, written all the way back in 2008.)

My family's really happy, you see. There's daddy, mommy, and me, in a cozy little house with two bedrooms, living a good life!

I have a lot of friends in school. There's Bob, Sally, Tommy, Steven, Tommy Number Two, Fat Tommy, Four-eyes, Kitty and Mushroom Head. I love my former class teacher, Miss Sorry. We started calling her that after she kept saying 'sorry' to a girl she banged with her car. We never saw Miss Sorry again. We also never saw the girl again. 

I was across the street. A white car banged into a girl, who was on the middle of the road crying over her dog, which was ran over by another car. My friends told me that the dog ran to the middle of the road and cried over its baby, which was ran over by another car. There's a lot more I wanna say, but the friends whom I told this to complained that it was boring.

There was red water everywhere. It came out of the girl's arms and legs and head and chest. Why were the people who were watching afraid of the red water? Mommy told me to drink eight cups of water every day. Daddy brought me to a pool and taught me to drown. Water is safe! But the adults in blue and white uniforms didn't understand...

Why were the people crying? I know that I cried many times after I've fallen down and injured my knee, but the white-haired lady over there has not injured her knee! A white-haired old man screamed at Miss Sorry. Was he angry? Why was he angry? Daddy told me that anger can never solve anything.

They told me that the girl 'died'. Mommy told me that when people 'die', they go to a better place. 

But most importantly, I haven't introduced my friend, Steven! Wait, I did? But I didn't say he was my bestest friend. He is my bestest friend! He and his family visited me and my family a lot! We played computer games upstairs while our mommies and daddies were talking downstairs! 

When they left, my daddy would be unusually quiet and my mommy would cry. Sometimes my mommy would yell at my daddy. But mommy told me that they just missed Steven's parents too much. 

It's bedtime. Mommy kissed my forehead. Daddy wished me good night. They leave my bedroom. I hug my bolster. I roll around. Something's not right.

They did not tuck me in bed, because my blanket's missing.

But mommy and daddy never forget! They must have taken the blanket for my own good, because they told me that they do everything for my own good. 

I try to sleep. It's so cold. Is it because I don't have a blanket to cover me? But my parents are perfect, because they do everything for my own good.

I sneeze. I sneeze again. I rub my nose. There's sticky water coming out of it. Mommy told me that sticky water comes out when I'm sick, and I should always tell her when I'm sick. Yet, mommy and daddy told me that they didn't like it if I sleep later than 9pm. 

Ah, I know, I got sick because I did not drink eight cups of water today. But it wasn't my fault. This afternoon, while I was passing by a store, I saw a fish on a tray of ice on a table. Its eyes were red. Mommy told me that fishes need water to live, so I poured all the water out of my bottle onto the fish. The fish smiled at me. I smiled back. A man ran out of the store and hit my head with a broomstick, but daddy told me that the world can be unfair, so I smiled back at the man.

Mommy always placed a large filled bottle on my table in my room. I walk to it and drink all of it. I feel very healthy, because mommy told me that water makes me healthy and daddy told me that water is precious.

I want to pee. The toilet's outside, but my alarm clock shows that it's 10pm. Daddy will be upset if I'm not already asleep by now. So I sit on my bed and pee in my pyjamas. Daddy will not be upset, for mommy told me that kids pee in their pants a lot.

How does pee taste like?

I lick my bed sheet. Pee tastes just like... water?

Someone is pouring water on me. Mommy told me that the roof of our house will block the rain, so it cannot be rain that made me wet. I turn around and I see Steven.

"Chill out, pal. You know people pee in their pants when they're scared, right?"

I know it's Steven although the lights are still off, because I know Steven. He is my bestest friend!

I am happy that Steven is in my room, because he came to play computer games with me. But my parents will be upset... but it's Steven! Mommy and daddy know Steven! They won't be upset. They won't...

"There, pal, you're no longer stinky from your pee! I gave you a great bath! Just like your mommy and daddy!"

He's right. Mommy and daddy bathe me everyday. Steven bathed me. Anyone who bathes me can be trusted, because mommy told me so.

"Yeah, sorry about the big argument our parents had this afternoon. My parents stormed out your house in the end."

But his parents could not have been upset, for they greeted me very happily. I even told them about how I made a fish smile by pouring water on it and they praised me. Mommy told me that anyone who praises me loves me, so Steven's parents love me.

But how did he get in my room?

"I was here the whole time, pal, watching your every move. Took your blanket cause it was cold."

Daddy told me that friends who care for me love me. Steven loves me. But he took my blanket. But he cares for me. He loves me.

Steven approaches the light switch at the end of my room. He turns it on. He opens his mouth so wide that all his teeth are shown. Mommy told me that people with white teeth are cle-

"Tonight, I'm going to kill your parents."

Daddy told me that "killing" means that you are making someone "die", and mommy told me that when people die, they go to a better place. So killing is good.

"Killing people is a bad thing to do, pal. But it's okay, because I'm not real."

I don't understand.

"I'm sure your mommy or daddy told you about bad dreams. We call it 'nightmares'. You're having one right now, pal."

Oh. A nightmare! I did have a lot of bad dreams before, but never once did I knew I was in a dream. Now, I know that I'm in a dream! This is fantastic!

"So, I'm going to kill them, alright? But it's all not real, because it's a nightmare. Trust me, it's gonna be fun."

Okay! Though, I don't see why sending people to a better place is a bad thing.

We walk out of my room. I feel like a bad kid, sneaking out of my room past bedtime. But nothing is real, so a bad kid I'll be!

"Do not venture forth, my child, for they are going to ruin your life."

I've heard this voice before. Steven tells me that the ceiling has spoken, because ceilings can talk in dreams. We continue walking.

"Stay back. You still can change your future!"

A dog spoke. Steven waves at it. It flies away. Three more steps until my parents' bedroom.

"Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! Please, don't die! Please, wake up!"

Miss Sorry appears in front of me. Steven walks through her. She disappears.

"I'm going in, pal. I'll kill your parents, and you'll be free from this nightmare!"

Steven walks through the door. I hear a loud noise, a bit similar to the sound of Miss Sorry banging her car onto the girl. I hear the noise once more.

"It is done."

Steven places his hand on my head. The house was lit for a short while by a quick and loud flash of light. Steven's shadow extends past mine.

"You'll be awaken, pal. You'll be awaken."

And so I wake up in a familiar room. It's Steven's room. Steven lies on the bed next to mine.

"Good morning, pal. You don't look too well. Had a nightmare?"

I nod my head.

"Have you heard, pal? The houses of Bob, Sally, Tommy, Tommy Number Two, Fat Tommy, Four-eyes, Kitty and Mushroom Head have been burned down last night. They all died. Some of the bodies were not found."

Well, mommy told me that when people die, they will go to a better... Wait, where's mommy and daddy?

I'm in Steven's room, right? That means I'm in Steven's house, too.

"Morning kids, time for breakfast!"

That's the voice of Steven's daddy.

We head to the dining room. There's a new dish I've never seen before on the table. It's very... oval-like.

"Enjoy your meal, kids! This meal will make you smart!"

Steven's mommy cuts a small piece of the oval thing and places it on my plate. I poke it with my fork and bring it to my mouth. I chew on it. Reminds me of mommy.

"We love you, kids, and trust us when we say that this dish will make you smart!"

They love me. Mommy and daddy did not say that people who say they "love me" do indeed "love me", but it's... what's that word called... "obvious", right?

"Sweetheart, do you think the authorities will be suspecting us? We've eliminated all our business rivals, so it should be obvious... right?"

"Ah, darling, I told you already, I've bribed the authorities to keep their fucking mouths shut. And plus, we're eating their brains for breakfast, so we'll be as smart as them, and our business will thrive, darling."

"Took us so much effort to not kill Steven's best friend, eh?"

Steven's mommy and daddy both laugh. I don't understand a word they spoke, but I know that they're loving people, because they said that they love me.

"Hey, your mommy and daddy are in a better place now. We love you as much as your mommy and daddy did. Is it okay if we become your new mommy and daddy?"

Yes!

Return to Darkness

Wallow on a flat green floor
where every step sinks your feet
half an inch deeper
as you vomit air
and you fall and expect the hands to pull you up
yet you see ghastly arms
white, transparent
and you drown in the green
as all helping limbs pass through you
and you revisit a lightless place
with fingerknives and toeknives
they beg you
with their knees on the green floor
tears dripping down their eyes and nostrils
and their mouths and their ears
as they reach out for you
yet they can't touch you
because the knives dove deep into their eye sockets!

An antithesis to everything I fought for.

A reflection of an unchosen future.

As the blackbirds plunge into the sea
and the fishes eaten by sharks
and the sharks eaten by man
and man eaten by man
and man eaten by the heart
and the heart eaten by the personality
and the personality eaten by everything
I cry.

I walk past a dark place
and I emerged unscathed
yet my heart, full of sores
I guess I'm being too sensitive, huh...?

Human Intelligence

The bread, now rot
as they saw us forgot
that our lives were fed
by a dying head

The killers will move
their hearts to a groove
when they write their will
and nothing, still

The sleepers will fade
into the dreams they made
as they venture so deep
no memories to weep

A life will hatch
when lit above a match
killing with a knife
and sleeping is rife.

Thin Boundary

A door to a purple-tinted dream
partially opened
as the dreamer observes from the outside
bound to the world

The tree collapses
as the mother of the newborn birds
was shot down
and replaced with feathered steel

The sun is stolen
and the moon is owned
the green field is uprooted
for a shooting star

The flowers wilt
before a giant's foot steps on it
the land dries up
as the ants' foots trample it

Platinum Me

The platinum layers are made of puree
The platinum layers are counted to three
The platinum layers are leveled, agree
The platinum layers are rebels, agree!

The platinum layers are said to be me
The platinum sayers now lie by the tree
The platinum layers, don't play and now see
The platinum players, they lied with their glee!

The platinum betrayers with sighs and gees
The platinum portrayers are who they'd be
The platinum, three layers are melting on me
The platinum, three layers, molded into me!

Old Wall

Wrinkled red

when the body burns and cracks

and the foulness of the heart

laments and breaks

The grass grow wild

when the sky blankets the fall

swallowing the trees and birds

bleaching the nest

Silver linings drawn through necks

virus jammed down the throat

worn underclothes with rechecks

as the wisest hearts bloat

A home in a blurred dream

schooling the young minds

poster of a stray beam

fooling the rewinds.