I'm slightly hedonistic and writing makes me happy


The camera roll is filled pictures so blurred
that we can’t tell what in them had occurred.

I refused to delete them because I used to think
of how happy I must’ve been then that I didn’t
even bother to focus and try not to move or blink.
A time when we were too busy making memories
to bother documenting them for centuries to come.

Because a future without you by my side shaking
with giggles into my shoulder ceased to exist.

Then fate cackled and decided to play a game, with
two unsuspecting fellows loosely tied together
by mythical red strings around their fingers ring.
I’m left with empty promises of forever, shaky
pictures, a cadaver and a heart that is singed.

Call off the fancy photographers with their effects,
for I see the world in bokeh when I think of you.

Don’t cry!

So I crafted and drenched
The origami cranes with
Salty tears of heart ache
Till I had no more.

I folded the sheets of my
Textbooks into paper boats,
My worries boarded them
And I let them set sail.

I whipped out my watercolours
And let my anxieties ruin one
Masterpiece after another
Till I fulfilled all of them.

I burnt my book of musings
That never did more than
Amuse me and my troubles;
I took delight in the numbness.

I wipe the whiteboards quickly
Before I can even think of those
Colourful goals and achievements
That are only ever fantasised.

I stow the plastic covered, unopened
Boxes of crayons and dried paints
In a drawer that overflowed with
Wasted dreams, it doesn’t shut.

I stare at documents with one eye
And mandalas with the other,
My right hand colours as my left
Is left on the bundle of hopes.

Now I sit surrounded by my art
But nothing to be remembered
By. Bye-bye. Time to leave.

I was told not to cry
So I crafted, but it would
Appear that I misunderstood.

You can hear my whimpers
In my crafts, begging to be heard
Refusing to budge over and leave.


Shards of glass bangles scattered on the floor,

casting vibrant reflections that dance with the sun.

Heaps of ball pens thrown carelessly in the bins,

some chewed up, with empty refills and some not.

Torn gift wrapping paper that lays under the tree,

still waiting to be picked up, folded and hoarded.

Broken photo frames and faded pictures, and

heedless intentions to buy glue and restore them.

Dolls, monster trucks, hotwheels and play doh,

all sealed in a box addressed to the orphanage.

Tea and coffee stained mugs lined up on the

wet kitchen counter, waiting to be washed up.

Old shirts, pants and dresses with holes in them,

ones that didn’t get a stitch in time, now need nine.

Newspaper bundles and textbooks of known arts,

resold to those who can magically revive them.

Broken bones and cuts, that the body mends,

colourful signed casts and kissed silver scars.

Novel, tangible objects of all shapes and sizes,

simply added to cart at the snap of our fingers.

But the lessons learnt, that are burnt into our brain

are here to stay, our memories are irreplaceable.


daily prompt



Everyone hated them and for good reason,

the last bouquet on sale this season.

They lay there patiently on the stand

waiting to be picked up and smelled.

Innocent goals, only to spread cheer and

sweet scents in the air and possibly

the lungs of someone treasured.

But to everyone else they were not

memories of silly childhood rhymes,

they didn’t taste of happiness sought

by painters of the (g)olden times.

All they seem to do, is leave a bitter

taste in the mouths hoping for

someone else’s to be on theirs.

But god help me, I love them so

because when you buy them for me,

it’s out of love deeper than any sea.

Sweeter than red, warmer than the stars

that you put up in my skies, they are. So

I will hold this bouquet of yellow flowers

close to my chest, and breathe for now.

yellow yellow dirty fellow sitting on a buffalo


My friend recently referred to me as “one of those people likers” and well, she’s right. I have the ability of managing to find something to love in everyone, and do honestly believe I could love anyone if they let me.

I never thought of this quality of mine to be bad, but retrospectively, let’s consider why she may have implied it wasn’t the best trait to have. So, I was looking up the IG feed of a boy (from my side account) who decided it was best to block my main account (sounds pretty creepy whoops, probably is actually) and my justification when she asked me why was “Well, I still cared for his pasty white ass” and well, yeah I do! I do care about whether he’s alive or not. Unfortunately.

Basically, it’s made me wonder if this ‘loving’ characteristic of mine is actually detrimental to my being. The hard hitting truth, it probably is bad, it probably stops me from cutting off people who couldn’t give a rat’s arse about my existence or lack thereof. It most definitely stems from my coping mechanism that I developed when I was younger, when I decided that I don’t do “crushes”, I don’t expect requited feelings, I don’t expect people to be ‘loving’ to me. So I took up the responsibility to screw overrated that shit and just love everyone because they deserve my appreciation, they really do.

Perhaps I just think I don’t mind the hurt when people don’t love me back. I’ve always found myself embracing the unrequited feelings I have for everyone and I do seem to make myself pretty comfy in the pit of self pity (which I pretend doesn’t exist because I don’t expect things do I? No, I’m some sort of angle who loves people boohoo) Well, not really. I do love my careless habits of being unbearably blunt and flirty with everyone, I do love appreciating people for who they are, it makes living worth it if I’m honest. There’s not much to live for if you discount people off my list. Sometimes I wonder if I put myself through things knowingly just to feel them and write about them.

I reckon I just need to decide for myself, whether the gaping hole in my heart (from when I give away pieces for free) is worth the pining and feeling pathetic lmao

(tl;dr I’m a clingy mf who is trying very hard to improve, I’ve haven’t completely stopped sending emails to people who can’t keep their eyes from rolling at the sight of my name in their inbox ~I imagine~ at the expense of looking silly but well, if I don’t be silly and wear my heart of my sleeve, who will? Alternatively titled, naivety

a concept: me, listening to we don’t talk anymore & somebody that I used to know and not sobbing

another concept: me, studying

yet another concept: me, not whining

best biffles

my friends matter a lot sometimes and my parents always tell me how temporary and irrelevant they are and how I should put my studies first and foremost and then my family and maybe a couple levels later, my peers.

They’re wrong sometimes. And this is one of those times; you see, they all had around 10 siblings and never needed to seek love and affection from sources that didn’t share the same blood or house as them.

But god, how do I make them see, that when I’m home alone everyday, with my dog for company, all I can turn to is my friends. How can I begin to explain that when I hear my friend laughing as if he was a malfunctioning radiator auditioning for a role as a mouse, it became one of my favourite sounds in the world.

When they’re the ones who support me no matter what, always push me to be better, and lift me up with silly jokes, how do I tell my parents, “I know you love me, but so do these three!”

When they act as my parents, lovers, enemies, children, siblings, etc. all rolled up into one, who am I to deny them? Our relationships go beyond the realm of platonic, they push the boundaries of romantic and leave me satisfied with my care; how can I not acknowledge this requited love served to me on a silver platter?


last year I realised how many close friends I have, that care about me and would go to the ends of the earth for me. I love them all so much and hope they stay in my life till the end of days.


Happy new year!

I’ve been dreading the thought of the zero’s lining up on the 24 hour clock because I realised that there was much about me that I need to change this year. Because, well, new year is just a thinly veiled excuse to make those amends we should’ve made ages ago, but didn’t. The idea that we can change ourselves regardless of the planet’s movement is brilliant but too overpowering for me. So I guess I’ll stick with the whole overrated ‘New Year, new me!’ shite for now.

So let’s see what I need myself to be this year –

  • better achievements in the future near
  • learn from the slate, not wiped clear
  • don’t avoid the dark, don’t you fear!
  • you can afford to be a bit more queer..
  • be considerate to those who are to you dear.
  • sometimes, when you have to, do sneer.
  • don’t let anyone at you leer.
  • to your instinct, please do hear!
  • don’t lie to yourself, dissolve the veneer.
  • please, no more self destructive behaviour
  • and maybe for now, say no to the beer
  • stop doubting yourself, you’ll have a career
  • (at some point surely)

other irrelevant things I should change include – less whining and dining lmao, no crying, no comparing, no dying and all that good stuff ya?

Lost Magician

[11/11 12:59 am] And finally, for my last trick
[11/11 1:00 am] I will turn into ashes
[11/11 1:00 am] Become one with the earth
[11/11 1:01 am] Watered by the tears on their eye lashes
[11/11 1:02 am] At the end of the final act
[11/11 1:03 am] The curtain falls down but they wait for me to come back
[11/11 1:06 am] Grumble something about plant rebirth and leave, does the audience
[11/11 1:07 am] But never was I there to begin with, you can’t wait for the return of what ‘I’ did lack
[11/11 1:09 am] I’ll continue to stay away, persistently hitting a wall of brick.
[11/11 1:10 am] Don’t miss me too much or they’ll declare you too sick.

Missed Connections

Testing one,

“Can you hear me?” You nod your head.

Not lies, no. Maybe you can, but won’t listen.

I wonder, would you jerk at the sound of me,

crying and screaming in frustration;

Or to the sardonic laughter that erupts

from my throat at these thoughts?

Testing one, two,

I don’t think you want to talk at all,

is that it? Why else would you stall

and pretend to be around, not?

There’s a piece missing. 2 hands long,

used to lie between us; that has

decided to go play hide and seek,

like we used to.

Testing one, two, three,

Everything was such a blur, or was that

an excuse? Even if it was, no worries!

My heart lies with you. I cannot antagonise

the image of your self even if I wanted to.

The line between understanding and self

destructing is thin, but it will have to do.

Testing one, two, three, four,

how many more? I’ve given you so much,

almost too much, one should exclaim!

But I will continue to do so and with impunity

you will be awarded for all you had given back.

The self preservation is kicking in,

yet I never, ever know when to stop.

I will make you talk.

Testing one, two, three, four, five,

finally you open your mouth! But

no sound seems to escape from within.

A half hearted groan seems to be it.

For a moment I mistake you for a git, and

perhaps the miss was when I decided

that you were an angel of some sort.

Testing one, two, three, four, five, six.

This is it, I know better than to try now,

for if something is to happen? It will,

after the trials. But futility, of any future

endeavours will be in your hands and of

the past? In the snapped red string

sutured around our necks. 

not sure but this might’ve been a response to this prompt lol

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