To Those Who Fall & Fall Hard

* “you” varies
I am not sure what it is..

But I have the ability
to fall in love
in a minute
that fleeting 60 seconds
of when my eyes rested
on you
and knew nothing
and nothing less
but your pure existence

I have the ability to
fall in love
with a moment when we laughed
and by accident rested
my hand on your shoulder
sensing a bit of your warmth
and nothing more
nor less

I can fall in love
with a glance
that pauses time
between us and freezes it
forever in my memory
long term and short
foreseeing and fabricating
the fairytale of us
the “happily ever after”
all in my mind
as we cross paths
before I say hello
nothing more
nor less

I can fall in love
with the cold weather
that colored my breath white
as I exhaled a sigh
that defined your beauty
for me back then,
now and maybe tomorrow?
nothing more nor

I can fall in love
in a year
365 days
of unreciprocated emotions
just the feeling
of butterflies
vs. your dust bunnies

I can fall for a night
and make you fall for that
single serving feeling, fleeting
with the stars as the sun
eliminates the magic
and brings the logic
sensing your naked nature
nothing more
nor less

I can fall for days
only when the sun is out
and my eyes dissect details
tangled and untangled
making sense and not really at all
loving in the sun has always
been scary
everything shows
sensing your securities and insecurities
nothing more
nor less

I can fall for all of
your personalities
in a different way each time
showing you a reflection
of my very own personalities
and oh the instability
that sexiness of it all

I can fall for
a month or plenty
as long as the sun rises
feeling and feeding off of your
heartbeats that make my mind
race against time
nothing more
nor less

I have the ability
to fall in love
with every moment
every second
every thing
and right now




kiss me in so many ways



Rapid Eye Movement (REM)

She took her normal road
earphones intact
heart, monotone
day, a rewind of yesterday

The sun was up
the people plenty
the life of a Monday did seem the same

The scene replayed
same screams, same sounds, same scents
same song, …even though she did not intend to

She walked past the ledge
that used to be empty
but there was a man
with a beard and guitar
so far so good

Her eyes scanned the new addition
to the Monday edition
cookie cutters of
her generation
30 years and counting..

Jeans and a shirt
face imperfect
till the deathly pause
at the socks and sandals
a recipe for disaster

She shook her head
to shake the image out of it
She hated the parts,
but her eyes loved the whole
reminded her of Gestalt
she looked till her head
could tilt no more
he never looked away from his guitar

She sucked at being subtle..
everyone knew that about her
her heart was too big
to fit on her sleeve
it clothed her everywhere
she felt everything and everyone
ten times more than you did


Rain was added to day 2
playlist changed to suit the change
greyscale filter
Tuesday never looked drearier

Same people
same sounds, soaked under the pitter patter of the rain
falling in puddles
and nestling at the end of her curls
heavier… curls
lashes, served as shelter for her eyes
the rain nestled there…

Her vision blurred
the ledge, he’s there
jeans and a shirt
and those damn socks with sandals

His guitar strums overpowered the music in her ears

She kept looking until
her head could tilt no more
he never looked away from his guitar
it didn’t matter

The sun colored her Wednesday, day 3
colors popped out
the world was in focus
her curls turned golden
she was sun-kissed

Same scene, livelier, louder
some birds were directed by the heavens above
to add some utopic feel to the midweek

The ledge, the man
those stupid sandals and socks
ugly and she hated them
but her eyes loved him

He strummed, she knew the song
“I’ve just seen a face”
She kept looking till
her head could tilt no more
and he looked

*Alarm sounds*

Art by Henn Kim – Inner Voice


This Time Around…

This time around
my heart has
succumb to gravity
and fell harder than ever…
with the wind against its face
it jumped

from my ledge of consciousness
into the pit of “what we have”

This time around
your breaths already knew
where to rest their footsteps for the night
as you slept on my chest listening to the music
my heart only knows how to play
for you
its sole inspiration

This time around
the hands of your watch
how to when to lead you
back into my arms
as they lay there
open wide, the same way my heart does
when it hears your name

This time around
tears cleansed the dust
that covered them with emptiness all this time,
when you were nowhere to be seen

This third time around
events went round and round
to put you right back where you belong
in front of me
just existing
this… time…
My stomach forgot how to churn
my appetite lost its way

my body, the needle of a compass
that gravitates towards you
my eyes hazy, with rosey vision
that colored all the greyness of sadness
my butterflies? I didn’t know
I still had them
This time is the charm
much like the one you cast on me
the first time my eyes

>>L      (oo)ked)          c          k          e          d<<

with yours and I willingly
threw the key
just to
engrave that moment
on the walls
of my heart
on the doors
of my memory
on the tip
of my pencil
whenever it reaches
for paper


This time around
I found a way
to carry you
with me
you’ll see
when we
for the next


d              r

n                o



Just a Glimpse

Art by Quint Buchholz



<| <| Rewind|

Fall on my lips
while I fall with
hitting cotton clouds
of serenity
that you filled
in every cell of me

Take me back
defy physics
hold the hands of time
and turn them back
< <Rewind time

I’d replay drunken dawns
maybe memories
I forgot to remember
moments that fled
when I blinked
again and again
with you

Walk backwards with me
pulling the lines of our
almost wrinkles
pulling them back
to relive the smooth days of youth
ready to reflect the recklessness
that will stitch itself
in the stories of the future
nestle in the wrinkles
that will vessel our faces
one day

Lay your hand on my chest
let your warmth melt ice
that filled its cracks
and mend it, weld it painfully
let the cracks fall into each
other and glow like iron
when hot
let them melt for each other
the same way I did
for you

Cup my cheek with the other
the surface that witnessed
salty waterfalls over
and over
from the left eye
dense with sadness
and the right
with droplets
of happiness
sometimes wiped by a lover
others soaked with a napkin
closer than any
when none were

Whisper to me
things your heart marinated
over the years
for it’s never too late
to start over

maybe i miss you

Me? Which One?

Wake up
Wear that smile
the one you lay down
on your commode

next to the Friday lipstick
Plaster it
prescribed for “middle to OK days”.
How does it look?
Come closer, says the mirror
pay attention to the details
is it the smile for today…
stands back
nods in approval

Wash away all your natural self
the crusties that rest
in your eyes, collected dreams
reminders that still
make it till tomorrow

Undress the true you
the one your bedsheets memorised
the walls of your bedroom store
the mirror, oh the mirror knows by heart

Step into that cold tub
and let your skin awaken
waves of goosebumps
to shake away
the yesterday
the one that wanted to linger
but simply drifted with
the night
diluted into day

Wash away
yesterday’s should haves
make way for new notes
to linger on your skin cells
before they regenerate new ones
for new touches, kisses

Wear the cloak
social of acceptance
you look nice
the one that makes you
look thin, on a bloated
the one “that’s ok for work
decent for life”
lacing your femininity
and simultaneously
strengthening your


One last look
at the mirror

Reflection: “I look thin”… check
Mind: “Thin enough?” … No

Reflection: “I look nice”… check
Mind: “nice enough”….  No

Reflection: “Nice smile” … check
Mind: “smile, enough?” … Maybe

Nod in approval
You are Ok to exit
the comfort zone
and ready
for a compilation
of things the sunrise


Dear Year,

I looked back
at the faded footsteps
that led me to the first door
of dawn
with blurry vision
my past diluted
soft and hazy
with a pastel filter
the faded borders
maybe that’s the way it should be
except for some things
my mind only remembered
memories that mattered
of only a few moments
with precise indications
tattooed and inked
that my mind’s eye
can never forget
and sometimes replays

This is not a new year
new me bullshit
it took me
31 years to make
me, without noticing
and I honestly
I don’t want to change anything
Still car-less
still unstable
still young at heart
seduced by minds
poetry and art
I fall for nice people
and I even fall for the ones
that fake it
I like falling it seems
the sadistic part of it
attracts the challenge of
the aftermath
… the getting back up

I still enjoy a good drink
or drinks and I don’t mind
sleepless nights
with working mornings
I adore dawn
with lowered inhibitions
they seem to accentuate
the colors

I have been lied to
as Andy did to Edie
I have tasted the rotten
taste of being used
and getting over that
with eyes brighter than ever
was not easy

not much has changed
“you still are the same”
they say with a smile
“and your energy ..”

New faces strolled
some left, some stayed
some taught me, some advised
some re-visited…
Bali.. enough said

Dear year,
you ended beautifully
messy and honestly
you screwed me over
once, twice, thrice..
but hey
and no thanks
I am glad you ended
hopefully along
with the bullshit you rained
on me in the last days

New year is only
a tomorrow

hello sunrise

A 2017 survivor

dear year

Connect the Dots

Laying in bed

Covered by the echoes
of the wind within her walls
she welcomed
silence with open arms
after pushing it away
in bars and bottomless drinks

Her thoughts tortured
the bubbles that filled her
it’s time they evaporate
to obliterate
that so-called feeling
of full-ness

She wasted time
in bars
meeting empty people,
that ended
with every single serving drink
offered to her

“Maybe vodka decorates
their speech”

Little did she know
it was slurring hers
slaughtering all sense
of intellect that
gave her a high
from time to time

Inhibitions down… spirits high
yeah.. that’s the spirit
down.. ?
logic diluted
“more vodka please”
common sense transparent
“twist of lemon, if you don’t mind”
it’s getting warm
her cold days of alone-ness
melting ..
“2 ice please”


What has become of Jane?
Success, far-fetched?
or was she blind to see
just like her clothes
so colorful, mismatched
yet only she
can see the beauty
of everything?

She took a sip
strong unexpected
a slap in the face
“but I always drink this”

Then a voice, maybe
from the void, within
after talking to her heart
“not all habits, have
expected beginnings
nor endings”

She blinked
and opened to a blurry
after effect
“yes, that’s the spirit”
High spirits
drinking her spirit


She’s gone
her mind somewhere else
body in bar
straight in a chair
she sways in fields
of fantasies
thinking of her life
as stories
with unwritten endings
maybe her pencil
has the power to


Gravity dancing with her
“I am happy” she lied
“one more
vodka straight for Jane”

As she fell
on her bed
fully clothed…alone
“What took you
so long, to connect
the dots?”
everything was

Heart Games

you have succeeded in breaking
my brittle bones
to reach my warm center
that 4 chambered

Enter room 1
It’s cold
just like my bed
after you left your side
for pillows to rest
filling your space

Can you handle it?
your lips are chapped
just like your name
full of cracks leaking with
lies that kept them
plump and oh so desirable

Enter room 2
It’s still cold…
well, it’s room temperature
for me actually
but your skin does not agree

Goosebumps cover your outer layer
reminding you of the discomfort
that covered mine when
you left me alone
with no embrace to warm
Trouble breathing?
oh darling, that’s ok
it’s only every day
that my lungs forget how to breathe
when I remember
your kisses
that used to steal my breath
from my being

Enter room 3
Bloody red
from battles of yesteryears
the walls bleed with memories
and broken promises
too sharp they scarred it
the walls are closing in
has it become dense for you to breathe?
have these unfulfilled bloody words
laid their warm hands on your neck
and are slowly squeezing
just to make you feel?
are you choking?
don’t get choked up..
take my advice,
I’ve been there
in both getting choked up
on things
that choked me

Enter room 4
Feel the heat?
That’s the intensity of my passion
that burns all in sight
there’s no control
can’t handle it?
I thought you wanted this
please proceed
to the exit
you just can’t
handle it
there’s too much
Thank you
Good bye
*Closes chapter*

“This is based on the 4 chambers of the heart, the ones that are full of O2 and are red and the blue chambers that lack O2”

The Female book

Wen Fang – The Female Book, 2011


It is only when a writer is broken
that ink spills from her cracks
to fall on paper

It is only when a writer is broken
that her muses could not
be constrained
within her

It is only when a writer is broken
that her fists curl into fetal position
carrying the curses of the dynasty
that she has yet to tackle

It is only when a writer is broken
that the whole world turns grey
decorated by
stormy skies and piercing winds

It is only when a writer is broken
that paper thins dangerously
diluting the medium
between insanity and logic

When a writer is broken
one would feel
the intensity of sadness
through the thorny paper
that has turned poetry
to sadism
burning your fingertips
to remind you to feel

When a writer is broken
her isolation becomes
her comfort, her pencil
becomes her needle
her saliva, her poison

When a writer is broken
her paper blotches with tears
giving you a touch
of the salt
that remains
after all has evaporated
with time

When she is broken
her ribcage turns to dust
allowing you to sneak a peek
of what a writer’s heart looks like
naked and helpless

When she is broken
the whole world knows,
reads, wears the veil
of grievance
and weds

crown me pretty


I Watched A Live Band Yesterday

I watched a live band
my stomach churned
against its empty walls
digesting emptiness
and simply
feeling human
Giving my butterflies
another reason to flutter

With a voice
so mellow
it mesmerized
the murmurs
to a silence

A marriage of strums
carried feelings
every stander
with a certain warmth
that reaches the heart

I heard my friend say
they make me fall 
in love with myself
how delicate of a statement
to float amidst
the dark space
to create a certain
kind of love
only told
voice and music

Something pure
was taking place
and as an audience
we have longed for
such a feeling
so foreign
to carry us a bit closer
to our very core
reminding us
that it’s possible
for a heart to smile
to prove that
innocence does
still exist

“Who are they?” I asked
Waynick” she said
It was then and
I realised
that butterflies
flutter for who
or what
moves them
of its