119.

This place, a home it cannot be. Lie on the floor, watch cloaked figures drip toxic smiles from the ceiling. Roll a ball, have it defy the laws of gravity and ascend continually. Cracked lines continue from the windowsill. There is a lock but no key. There are spaces with no door in between. In my going I need not move my feet. Just forget to breathe.

House of cards, make one and let it crumple. Dust gathers even in a vacuum. Handsome one, they call me, ask what goes on in my head. Etched palms and peeling lips keep them all away.

Where do the others go when only one can take control?

How can someone out there know the weight of holding on to more?

Free fall into glass ceilings, let them break forever. Destruction is music to deaf ears. Bite marks on pillows, changing writing, codes abundant. Keep the enemies guessing. Black hole spiralling and stealing all that can be.

Strip down and see. Flesh charred with ink. Which world and who to be angered less, to chase fleeting shadows.

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116.

A personal book review written for a book loved much.

Tell me if you have ever thought of that one stranger, or many more. Remembered the curve of their smile or the flecks of light in their eyes.

I have, and I know what it means to lie awake wondering where they have gone, and if they are still here.

Even as a child growing up, stories unspoken in people unmet fascinated me. Though crowds are not my fancy, and fears of being closed in fluctuate without warning, the idea of knowing people deeply remained an irresistible attraction.

Without uttering hello, I have already been given a thousand goodbyes.

Meet my read, Jon McGregor’s If Nobody Speaks of Remarkable Things, an author who has done me no favour by augmenting my strange affection for nameless individuals. (more…)

115.

I’m fascinated by a ghost.

Real as real can be. Even so, sometimes I catch myself wondering if he exists. Poetic musings and untimely vanishings, ethereal like the place he once dwelt.

Why do I think of him, despite unreliable appearances?

Perhaps it’s the utterance of I love you on the first meet, when we were hardly acquainted. Even he found himself taken aback, as though it was something strange and uncalled for. In the context of a card game, a deck shifted over and yours truly took the leave for the night.

Remember even more the impromptu lunch together, when I ran up to him to say hey. Mildly shy, with a smile almost and not quite, partake a meal together we did. The crumbs of a cake that fell.

While our intentions to meet again never materialised, I know the best gift bestowed. My ghost, he writes a birthday wish detailed and sweet. As one who became synonymous to air, his hand reaching out through this digital space is nothing to dismiss.

Ghostly friend of mine. Where you go, be the thoughtful being you are.

111.

You step out in my attentive suit

Pillows, pills and bills block your way

I find tear-stained sheets

Who were you at 3AM?

 

There you go in the evenfall

Lined artwork bleeding

Kitchen glass breaking

Bright eyes seeking

The sound of a throat constricting

Suspire and oxygen melting

Someone who is no longer here.

 

Many people do you meet:

The boy keeping a stash

The girl laughing too hard

The man feeding his meal to the cat

The woman sharpening the knife

In the library, the bridge under, the computer screen

Each knowing the smiles meant goodbye.

110.

Hush now, they say, I see someone in the store. Oh, it’s just a mannequin left unattended. Who cares, we’ll just put her back into the closet where she belongs. Wait, woah! Why is she lashing out? Perhaps she is a robot instead of a mannequin, but they’re all the same.

Women are walking catalogues, don’t feel personally harassed if eyes are watching every moment. If you are wearing white, you’re challenging the rain to make it translucent. Don’t wear skirts that are too short, you know people are waiting for that gust of wind to blow a little too strong. Walk in an alleyway if you dare, pray for it to be empty or else be prepared to be drugged. Girl, don’t be too friendly at the party or you’re flirting with trouble.

When people pinch your bra strap or steal your hair ties, let them get away. It’s a small matter, and as they always say, boys will be boys. Boys tease the girls they like. Feel the sting on the cheek and whisper that it’s okay, sometimes people get mad. The partner always buy roses the next day. Kiss and make up, no?

Keep your mouth shut, it’s not proper for a lady to speak unless they are spoken to. Did I ask you, asks an authority figure angrily. I don’t think, perhaps you will begin to say, but the Mad Hatter says, if you don’t think, then you shouldn’t talk at all.

Pretty one, you should remain a flower on the wall. Walls can’t talk.

You play with gold glitter as a child, scrapbooks messy but grow up with pepper spray simply for wanting to go out alone to watch the midnight dance of a thousand stars. Sometimes it’s beside your pillow as you sleep, for even home is not the safe place you hoped for. Picked locks and rummaged belongings, does privacy even exist anymore. They say that being in a crowd will keep you from harm’s way, such as family reunions and shopping malls. But can you say no to that older relative who insists that you sit on their knee? There are hands that brush too close.

Yet, this is the cry of the lighthouse: (more…)