Bruises

Purple is the best colour

You know the blood is fresh,
red cells escaping
trembling
nerve ends quaking

Not like green
so sickly
regret sinking in
temptation to break
tear
release them again

But the worst is yellow
normality approaches
healing happened
and you’re still alive
and you were alive
all along

The pain made you feel
alive
but the yellow
proves you’re less than living

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Cracks

I see cracks beginning to form

Where it usually flickered

Now a gash has appeared

Leaking, dripping

Hairline

Jagged

Rough

And the urge to peel the scab

Hook my nails under and watch it flake

It grows stronger with every taunt

Every command

Every confusing dictate

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Freedom

What a paradox, freedom.

Freedom to choose
To feel
To speak
To give
To receive

Freedom to
sacrifice
to submit
to honour your word
to obey

What freedom is there
When through your freedom
you give yourself up
as Slave

A chosen submission
A free decision
To release freedom
Through your free mind

But when does the reign end
Where do the chains break
Where did the freedom go
Was it ever there

So, to

Do you, can’t you, why won’t you
feel the torrential slate
rising
from behind your adam’s apple
till it hangs
thin jagged claws
from the sockets of your eyes

Leak drip slowly pour
more like a crawl
gently flooding and obscuring
muffling

but now it drops.
It’s all but gone
except for her hollow
sweet enclaves
enticing collarbones
hip bone jutting,
gradual slope and caress

Jagged, crisp
crick
snap
lapse
dent
and
crack

see the sand fall
the water drop
the mountains and burrows crumble
dissolve
bubble
pop

Tinge, twinge, twitch

Where does it end (when)
When will it stop (how)
How can it halt (Why)
Why does it still

She’s back

Back

Screaming silently, quietly, piercing my noise
Please stop hurting me, I can’t start hurting myself, not again
But her shrill squeals skin my sanity and peels my masks away

Collapsing, cool floor icy cold and ragdoll comes to mind. Little puppet breaking and cracking, splinters.
Hot liquid, lava pooling and quickly coagulating, slide and tremble

Please no more how do I stop how I do keep going, how do I not break when she screams and screams.

Lies lies lies please, enough, just give me back the masks of determination. Please
I can do it, I promise, the stakes are way too high, the loss too deep.

Just please let me concentrate, let me obey, let me listen and not hurt, stop screaming and throwing me off.

Stop bringing back the depression. Stop bringing back the cloying clotting parasitic wailing emptiness.

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In light of self-sabotage

Full out bawling
A child again
Deep chested
Whiny
Mouth hanging
Drooling

Fear of abandonment
Of patterns revisited
Demon whispering I told you so
Logic screaming just be chill
Stop being crazy
Just trust his words
Why can’t you just
Trust

Trust
Broken before but not him
So why cling to the past
Why be a stereotype
Why let your crazy control you
Why believe you have a crazy side
Thus allowing it existence and power

Enough!
Silence!
Just.
Drop it.

Why can’t you just let yourself be happy.

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Helpless little girl

The old hauntings
Pop the drowsy pills
Chug a bottle

You know where the alcohol is
You know where the pills are
You even know how to hit yourself
Just
Right
On the metal tap
Like riding a bicycle

But the bottles are now Chinese cooking rice wine
The pills flushed after therapy
The pain inside my head and heart
Suffering and self-induced enough

The food isn’t worth the guzzle
Cause ants.

The anime helps
So do the fluffy stuffies
Maybe a milk bottle would be better
And softly petting your own head.

Doesn’t that sound nicer, little one?
Doesn’t it seem
Enough?

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Letting it slip

Your true insanity

Muffled, silenced screams,
A whimper the only indication
That you’re losing control
Unhinged
Unwinding
Unfurling

Hair scrunched and pulled tight
Pain to distract and peel away
At the expanding explosives
Within your
Itchy Twitchy Shaky
Tick Tock Rip
No, stop!

Screams, layered
Clawing, stiffening
Wailing
Demented
Moaning
Crumpled

Collapsing, deflated as she finally broke
Snapped
Split
Cracked
Extinguished
Exploded

Imploded, more like.

Careful, your crazy is showing.

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In which, I Potato.

There’s a phrase called Jiak Kan Tang, meaning to eat potatoes. It’s used in slight mockery of those who were born Asian but are more westernised in thought and behaviour. That is to say, preferring potatoes over rice.

Potato is also a great meme for the awkward girl, potating away in potatoland, awkwardly poting about while embodying both the essence and physicality of the potato.

I’m both.

I believe it is this Potato Identity that has often left me in a perpetual state of singledom. Not just single and ready to mingle. Or even just single and happy. I’m just, potato. Even when I’m in a relationship, I’m just preparing myself to be launched from a potato missile into singlehood.

Bitter and mouth-curling when raw with emotions, crumbly and mushy when heated. God I’m such a potato.

True, a potato can be delicious, but it’s tiring just being seen as delicious when embellished with someone else’s favourite garnish or sauce. Then again, I wouldn’t have me raw, or cooked and plain.

Even when I do meet people who seem to like the potato that is me, all I can think about is: Why? Too many YouTube good channels have taught me that potatoes in their natural state or least worked on are the worst state of potating. They may insist they like a nice, steaming, clean baked potato, but all I see is the crumbly, dry rubble of my innards. Or perhaps they exclaim that they admire the intensity of my raw emotions, yet all I hear is that they enjoy the vulnerability, that they see me for the potential not yet achieved.

It’s easiest to say I do best when discarded, forgotten and left alone. You see buds sprouting in abandoned potatoes after all. Yet I can’t seem to realise that loving nurture, water and nutrients help me become a plant, not just the sprouting of some weak shoots that wilt in weeks.

As I long for the quiet, dark dirt to bury me in self-pity, self-hatred, and self-sabotage, I’m resigned to be dug up by sharp claws and snivelling snouts. When all you know are cuts and intrusive smothering, a gentle touch still feels like a shimmering bolt of lightning.

Oh my Potato self, oh Potato me. Won’t you allow him to hold and grow you into a green, leafy plant? Why do you revert to staying rooted in your ways?

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Obey

Trapped by piety,
every step cracking ice,
creaking wood boards,
snapping twigs,
rustling bedsheets.

Fear of/for approval
override
Love
Career
Country
Stability

Desperation
Victimisation
Villianisation
Demonisation
Distortion
Apprehension
Disconcerting

Ruptured.

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