Dye

A butterfly flaps its' wings
Hurricane in China

Consider a still pool
Unmoving, crystal clear
A drop of water
And the ripples spread
That drop integrates itself into the pool
And suddenly it's like it never existed
Except that the ripples it caused
Gallop across the surface far and wide
Slowly weaken
Then fade

Consider this moment
A thin slice of time
This is a part of your life
An integral one
Every part of you is made up of moments
Of memories
Paper-thin sheets of time
Stacked all upon each other
And when you are gone and all that's left of you
Are moments, memories
They reach out and touch the faces of those you loved
Nestle in the minds of those you helped
And glow in the hearts of those who
Loved you back

Like a drop of dyed water in the pool
Even after the ripples fade
It'll be like we never died at all

Television

It was a noisy flat,
Full of the bustle of busy lives.
But that was just noise;
To her, it was silent inside.

She rattled shut the gate.
Fluorescent light flooded the room,
But none of this brightness
Could outshadow the gloom
That hang in the air like
Rubber bands gaudily in rows
In the kitchen, like dust
Adhering itself to the brooms.

With a rustle she dropped the red
Plastic bag on a tabletop
That wasn't small enough for two.
The stall owner had said,
"Here's two portions, I know
That it must be hard on you."

A high whine mixed itself in
To the ambient un-sound,
And she caught a glimpse
Of a family advertisement.

The commercial break had ended.
The National Day Parade was back.
Our country! The seeds it had sowed!
We should pay our pioneers back
In kind, was the line the message went
Something along, unabashedly loud.

She watched the little green men
March around on the TV screen
Like children's toys, immaculate.
Dancers barely in their teens
Filled the canvas of the stage,
A picture of youth, girls and green.

Chewing on glistening white
Chicken breast and rice,
She watched a happy family
Of the future do their happy
Family things, and thought
About how it would be nice
For everyone to eat chicken rice
At her table that was not small enough for two,
But that was enough to encompass something much bigger than numbers or words,
Something that surpassed quantity in every shape, way or size, something she had never seen or heard,
But once always knew was there.

Wouldn't that be nice?

Her quiet chewing seemed to fill
The flat. He was always there to
Chew with her, that was until
He no longer was, of course.

The couple from the future
On her television screen
Cuddled with their grandchildren.

Tunnel Vision

Maybe the rust of your tongue
Will suffice
To salt this useless dew
In the blur of my eyes
Raw whites
White hot
Blooming needles in my
Tunnel vision

Afterglow

Roll over to
Sponge up the
Warmth of the
Ghost left behind
Fast evaporating
Into trajectory
Of disdain
Whisked away on
Pitter patter paws
Flash of whisker
Out through my
Bedroom door.

Boxhead

Boxhead, boxhead 

Like a porous loaf of bread 

Dry and brown and plain

Conveniently stackable 

Unassuming flammable 

Easy to maintain 

Empty and collapsible 

Shake-rattle-rollable 

Utterly inane 

Favorite colors, birthday dates 

Bits and bobs and whatsherface 

Paper shredder brain 

Pulped and bleached recyclable 

New and clean and writable 

Broken thought of train 

Permissibly strange 

Oddly, can’t complain

McDonald's Is A Whore

McDonald’s is a mistress
McDonald’s is a whore
Her love is cheap and easy game
Her embrace forevermore
You tangle in her golden locks
When the canteen is abyss

Turning to her open arms
And sweet McFlurried kiss
She begs of you
To stay into
The long and lonely night
The warmth of home
And wholesome meals

Can wait until the light
At the tunnel’s end
When all is done
And exams but a memory
Yet you’ll come back another year
Her love is misery but McSpicy

-------

Okay context: I'm currently in university studying Industrial Design. Oftentimes, especially when project submissions are due, many of us will stay late in studio, working. The canteen closes kinda early (can you believe our canteen is called Techno Edge??? Ew) so after a certain time, McDonald's is our only option left. It becomes an ultimatum where we either have to go home for food, or succumb to McDonald's in order to keep working in studio.

A Salve

Thinking
I turn the words over
And over in my mind
Pebble in hand
Each syllable I find
A dip in the surface
Smooth and austere
Closing a fist
I hold your words dear
And fling them across the water
Skipping, sinking

Stalks Beneath The Wind

In humble golden pastures
Folding into endless skies,
Frost perched atop the sprays of stalks
Threw suns into my eyes.

If mottled marbled welts of snow
Ebbing slowly into themselves
Know their place before the mountains
And the morn that is their knell,

Then I too bow as the cold seeps in,
Like those humble stalks beneath the wind.

Winter Pastoral

Little tree
How many suns
Have bathed you
That they blaze forth
From your branches
Orange-pink rubies
Throwing their fire
Back into the winter sky?

Discourse

How does one share a glass
With another who does not drink?
Who does not sip
And taste
The same notes that you taste
Who swallows the ocean
If only for its water
And cares not for the salt that christens it?
How does one share a roomful of air
With another who does not breathe?
Who will stand in proximity
Even touch their toes to yours
Their fingers to yours
Limbs encasing
But not extend their presence
Beyond the wall of lung
And skin
And sweat
Refusing to release themselves
Into the same space
And take back a piece of otherness
Only to discover it no different?
How does one share a life
With another who does not
Will not
Cannot
Live?