it is morning and i am awake.

everyday there will be a time when i drift off into an abyss where distance is abstract and all that others could make out is the gaze of emptiness in my eyes.

this is the moment of all moments where i wonder in endless wonderment of how, in good time and with the simplest of words can i tell you very dearly, and i've always wanted to be able to tell you, in all honesty, that i love you.

because i do. and this is what you do when you really do. though nothing seems to happen even when i truly do. the sun still rises while my darkness looms, i can't see where or what i am gazing at, and every tomorrow still dreams of where today wouldn't or couldn't go.

this is the moment when i wish your laughters that swirls me round the world come from you in real time, still carrying the warmth of your breath that makes my ears tingle with fuzzy delight; not the coughing river of endless memories.

every day.
i want to pick up my phone and tell you.

but your phone seldom works these days.

it is morning, the tomorrow of yesterday, and i would like to sleep now.

Did you hear me listening?

I know you had chicken chop because I didn't hang up the phone after you thought you did.

My face pressed against the window grills, I looked across the street at where you should be. Right there. The clattering of the background noise sounded almost melodic. Occasionally, you waltzed in and out of my ear. My eyes will close as I hold the phone closer, straining to hear every single treble of your voice. I could feel you, the image nearly complete.

Didn't matter that I was running late for my appointment. In that moment, time was running in the past tense, a destination that I couldn't catch, anyway.

Six, seven minutes went on in this long distance call, till you got lucky, I hello-ed to a numbing white sheet of silence, and the signal was lost.

on and on

the dreams are still coming.
what is contained in the day
tores free in the darkest of nights

and the morning after
carries the weight of the wanton excursion;
imprints of your name in this pillaged heart

Enchanted

What or how to feel. My feelings spinned in a daze this whole day while it was aglow in fuzzy warmth. Am i better at concealing my emotions already; the many times when my sense of you slipped below the horizon, you were in sight, but you were gone, and my heart sank as I took deep silent breaths. in my own silence. your voice rings in the background to the phone in a tone once familiar and so crushingly close. I sit in the greatest cold, shivering from within, with your scent submerging me in you, yet remained impermeable, insensitive to the fading grasps of my fingertips.

.

put me to sleep

sometimes i just feel so bloody lost.
i'm running out of places to hide,
let the feelings hunt but not find me.

the burn in my eyes.

this is the morning of 30th Nov, in the wake of 29th. i feared its coming, a day of two funerals. one for you, and another for me, my long suffering heart.

stephen my friend.. your passing hits me harder than I'd have thought, given that we were not the closest of friends. yet tonight I shed tears for you. can't quite bring myself to write much of you yet. the day when i visit Anfield, our spiritual home, I will lay a flower for you upon Shankly Gates.

and for you, my heart, my dear dumdum. i am silent.. but i miss you everyday. you won't be reading this, but happy anniversary nonetheless. =(

a surreal hug, may it transcend from my thoughts to you, through the air and the distance wherever you may be, under this sky we share. may it reach you tenderly, brushing pass your arm, reaching around the small of your back, like a warm caress from someone in your heart on a november day, cold. may the good of this world conspires to bring this hug to you.

For Stephen.

only with death, do we understand life
and the inadequacies of just living.

Stephen old man, I remember you. You'll Never Walk Alone.

You've been missed.
.

Stephen Loh - Dragon boat accident - Cambodia
NTU - NIE - NJC - Maris Stella
NTU Hall 1

Wake at 7 How Sun Close, 27th and 28th November.
Take 22 from Serangoon MRT. about 6 stops away.

Funeral on 29th November.

everything is so sad.

everything.

silent death

tremors echoing
from time to time
unerringly,
towards
this forsaken land
the injured lay slumped
hand over his mouth
muffled cries
in fear of
being found

broken parts

two weeks and hurting, that should be a hairline fracture on one of my metatarsals, possibly the first or second, on my left foot. hope it heals by itself.

same for my old ligament injury above the right ankle. soreness and some swelling persists on.

same for the broken parts elsewhere. that should be permanent.

and it wasn't to get your sympathy.

your song keeps playing in my head
like a broken jukebox that wouldn't stop.

hold my head

My forehead feels heavy with sporadic twitches due to the recent build up of muscular mass from excessive frowning in a blood culling effort to prevent constant thoughts of the emptiest, saddest kind.

6.26am

the dream was so painful i couldn't sleep again.

somewhat breathless. i turned off my fan. the right eye feels sore. i don't remember rubbing it. i touched it. watery remains. get away from the dream. is that why i'm sitting here on the chair, curtains down, not knowing what to do. hiding in daylight.

i've lost all sleep. where has it gone to, where did my baby go. at least i saw you there. you look beautiful. but not for me.

a piece of square trying to pass through a circle, or is it the other way round. i exist merely as the great clattering, the obstruction in between.

or did i secretly wake up to wait for your reply from last night.

almost an hour. dare i go back now.

there are no question marks because there will be no answers.


like an overused SketchIt pad, no amount of erasing can remove the last remaining image.

4am

chest is tight. i can't breathe again.
4am. it's the same time.
i remember i coughed and spluttered.
but you only wanted to say goodbye.

hold my hand

demons visit
with the night silenced
breathless, the air
too thin for screams

sleep

i want to sleep my life away
what will i be waking up to?
a day of haunting memories
and a night of broken words

oh please let me sleep,
let me escape for a little while
and when i do wake
tell me i'm in the November of '05

4.35am

I have no wish to make you
the bearer of my pain.
here I go now, here it rains
and tomorrows come, with great disdain

i saw
it hurts
it fuckin hurts.

just talking to myself

silent night
broken morning
and a silent night

it wasn't much
but even that bit
was out of touch.
.

i don't blame you
just upset at how things turned out.

just a simple how are you

i feel like a beggar who's just waiting and waiting everyday to pick up the scraps. sometimes, there's a little something. but mostly, there's nothing at all.

.

where is the smile in your voice
or the kindness in your touch
wasn't it only yesterday when
we playfully nudged

the smile in your voice lights a thousand sunset
where and when have i heard that voice before,
it wasn't today or the week just passed; silent dusk
will it be tomorrow and its tomorrow, that's my simple ask.

so call me and smile at me,
smile at me and tell me,
words with a sunset view
just a simple how are you.