The Right Path

I climb the steep stairs
ascending the dizzying spiral
twisting, turning, branching
into three similar paths
the left
down a road lined with pitchforks
cast in blue flame
squeezed between the pitchforks
are wooden signboards messily labelled
"we don't need you
nobody needs you"
the ceiling blanketed with the blood
of an unpaid slave
still fresh, still dripping
still screaming for a pay raise
yet the slave had one job
to kiss a thorny flower
a melting rose
with petals as fluid as tears
but the slave drank the rose
swallowed it whole
and the corpse is nowhere to be found
the complex name of the slave
splattered on the walls of the road

The middle
a dark alley
dimly lit by a single streetlight
standing sorrowfully
pondering sorrily
about all the sad lives
the parentless children
the saviourless souls
lost in this labyrinth of knives
as the penniless people
in their drunken stupor
rammed their bruised hearts
into the shiny sharp of the metal
over and over again
never seem to die
yet they cry louder every time
but I, who is standing
in front of the three paths
their laments are like whispers
softer and softer
and... nothing
or is it because
I can no longer feel my ears
I can no longer feel my heart

As a figure who can hear no sound
I carefully tread along the right path
my right hand constantly touching the wall
to make sure I am still alive
still conscious, still undreaming
still caressing the rough rocky seas
with my sandpapered fingers
as my fingerprints are imprinted
onto every little crevice on the wall
leaving behind an inspiring message
"nobody loves you"
and thus I leave my hated identity
behind me, as I resume my walk
each step forward getting heavier
as if the floor is sucking in my feet
my arms are tight
my head is spinning
as I lose my sense of direction
I stop dead in my tracks
in a lightless area
devoid of emotions
a void for the lonely

As I snap out of my
bizarre escape to a personal fantasy
a vacation away from society
I am sitting at my desk
staring at the scary horde of numbers and letters
on my computer screen
I pick up the landline phone
on my right
while I reach for the calculator
on my left
as I read an email filled with hatred
in the middle of the wall of text
I come across a heartwarming sentence
"we need your urgent support
as our MACHINE is dead
how can we love again
your machine is a piece of shit
you are a piece of shit"

I descend the elevator
from the office on the twenty-fifth floor
I arrive at the ground floor
yet the elevator continues descending
falling
deeper and deeper
faster and faster
and it stops getting faster
moving at such a constant speed
that I can no longer feel like I'm falling
I'm merely floating aimlessly
in this bright yet quiet space
trapped within six ceramic walls
at least the music is calming
albeit repetitive

The elevator door splits open
in front of me, three paths lay bare
the left, the middle, the right
which should I choose
the left path of slavery
the middle path of sorrow

or the right path
of loneliness?

A Light Machine

I walk into the factory

singing along to the jingles

of the white robotic arms

I walk in sync with the speed

of the slowest conveyor belt

transporting a spherical object

too many spherical objects

I wonder

what is the object

what does this factory manufacture

as I inhale the dusty air

as I am bathed in grayish sweat

sticky, uncomfortable

yet I continue pushing this trolley

sleeping on top of it, is a

holy machine filled with light

it is commonly marketed

that it is lighter than light itself

yet it weighs tremendously heavier

than any one piece

of my broken heart

The machine arrives

in front of the eyes of a person

with four arms

two on the left, two on the right

three legs

all below the torso

two lips

one above the other

and a single eye

spanning two-thirds the face

above the lips

"Good morning

I am         from        

nice to meet you

how are you doing

this fine morning

I have brought my MACHINE with me

will you have a look"

As a single eye stares at the
black, rigid, squarish machine
I release all muscular tension
and drop to the floor
kneeling
bowing to the machine
the humble golden crown
the peaceful light emanating from
the end of my life's tunnel
watching the spasms of the machine
tug onto the gaze of the single eye
as the two lips of the person
start singing a beautiful song
"how would it be like
if the world is filled with the chatters
of the orphaned birds
flapping their single wings
gliding through the red sky
home to a bloodied sun
yet as they fall from the sky
losing all will to live
their last words are merely
their love for one another"

As I walk with the person
I could barely keep up with the pace
of the three legs
running forth like a headless chicken
yet shivering like a one-winged bird
I hear a shriek
a sharp pitch that impales my eardrums
like a needle going through the palm
like a hammer pummeling the head
as the two lips yearn for love
as the single eye learns to see
the world around the person
has been painted a crimson tint

The four arms
each as big as an narrow office tower
barely scraping the skies
barely wobbling around
each arm grabs hold of the nearest object
the spherical objects
that the forsaken factory manufactures
all day, all week
all month, all year
since the birth of a savior
our savior
       
a holy white robe
and a single white eye
the eye of ultimate truth
the eye that sees through all lies
and I realize
deep inside all of our deceitful hearts
a single eye lies asleep
and when it learns to see
it learns to love

This factory is charitable at heart
manufacturing copies of the
single eye within us
and it is all thanks to
a machine
my machine
me, the machine

As I emit the light of love
from the abyss within my two lips
the single eyes are manufactured
waiting to be installed into the swollen eye sockets
of all in this world
yet if I am so loved in this world
yet if I am such a savior of the world
why are my three legs constantly sprinting
to a direction up, down, left, or right
or anywhere and everywhere in between

Yet if I am the most useful machine
yet if I am the light itself
why are my four arms
flailing around, desperately
trying to hold onto everyone and anyone
that runs away from me?