Wednesday, 13 May 2020

Why Do I Still Write

21:15:00
It’s insane
the juggle of jargons
the manic grammar & punctuation
because modern day poetry
is all about aesthetics and grunge-ness
the crazy choices of words from
the dictionary that angsty 14-year-old
teenagers would use to “express themselves”
but here i am, 
still writing,
it’s addictive.

It’s self-escapism through metaphors.
a damsel in distress,
(sigh, always playing victim)
“the world stops for a while”
when it keeps on moving while i prefer
to be trapped in this non-existent time machine
it’s wishing upon a dry well,
all the fantasies that you won’t get.

but still,
it is comforting.
it does not hug you 
nor wipe your tears that fell
on the paper
but it lets you escape into 
that insane world whenever you
revisit the page 
hallucinating, if you ask me
but at least i know there
is another world that i’m safe to be in.

Routine

21:14:00
I wake  up to the shift of the bedsheet 
as my mom scrolls through messages 
on her tablet
I open my eyes again,
her blanket is neatly folded
and the sun screams his rays at me
through the peeking curtain
standing straight on top of my roof
oops, it is now 12.

I was about to lie down again but my tummy keeps on bugging my mouth to open and my teeth to chew 
so I walked down the stairs and searched for any brunch ideals on the dining table.
I can hear the sewing machine hustling her nine to five day job accompanied by 
laughter, arguments and tears
basically,
a K-drama plot.

I came down again when my mom calls for lunch,
finally showered and dressed in my T-shirt and shorts
One plate is enough to doze me again,
this time when I wake up it might by four,
it might be six,
but
the long naps won’t budge my love affair with my sleeping schedule
now that’s what we call loyalty.

Rachel's P.O.V.

21:14:00
He is never someone else to me.
He is not a foreign soul,
he resides in the neighbourhood of my heart for years
my mother loves him 
and he joins every family gathering
We shared the Big Apple;
the sunsets in Manhattan overviewed
by tall, glass skyscrapers.

I never see him any different
from classrooms to ballrooms
first class flights to private jets
intimate drinks at the bar to 
lavish family parties 
the comparisons are outnumbered
by my long live adoration

Why do everyone has to tell that we are different
the Lion City is not even a lion 
and there is nothing wrong with that,
why would our upbringings
and last names matter when 
just like any other people
our love is just..
“love”.