Continue reading “tyrant”


skiving in class. i think my mom and i would have made great friends had we met in the 70’s. she is quiet, funny and a bit mad like me. i am actually very funny. would have bitch-slapped her had she told me she was going to date that vincent guy. i cant slap her now. they are playing sick sappy love songs and i want to go slow dancing in a night club

stargazing in the park however this poor eyesight can manage (forgot my glasses). ive observed that there are stars only the peripheral vision would allow the eyes to see, then when u turn to focus they vanish. strange

your face is smooth and sweet. it is smooth like a hill in the desert; sweet like honey and the moon. your frown is exquisite, but not rare. there are no traces of its frequencies but u wear it like a familiar friend. your face is pretty and kind. much to your disbelief and my conviction, so pretty, so kind. it is kind like a warm glow that i constantly want to look at, but afraid that it would illuminate the countless flaws of my very own countenance. sweet like the faint bit of nectar in the heart of ixoras, the one i love yet afraid that i will be allowed a taste of but only once. your face is warm, and makes my heart swell with ache.


I ponder the agony of zeitgeist (when the past is your absolution). Sanguinity, comes with accepting the impossibility of denial anymore, then acknowledgement that inside is a heart highly susceptible to equal parts love and fury, a quality hardly a guise but instead a choice. I debate the conflict of inability to tolerate the reality of family yet with shameful irony carry around an innate desire to propagate the nostalgia of love and kindness. Many a time i wonder if the less-than-natural reflex in choosing to smile at the life i cannot choose would make me less of a candidate in the eyes of others. As it turns out i smile a lot more than i think i do and pocket the tantrums i cannot throw. I worry if when my words don’t come together that people won’t read between the lines. These days i keep busy being a waitress and also a sappy mess (don’t read my diary, u’re in every line). i don’t fight needlessly anymore


update: tired, heartache


Beam me up! I love the moon like the optimistic bend of your eyes. If you squint your eyes enough, they slice the moon up against the night.

If you wake up to find your fingers stained gold, don’t point me to the sun. I love the sun only for the moon. I hate the sun. Run me through the pains of youth, throw me to the panda bear, don’t point me to the sun.

Amblonyx cinerea (Small-clawed Otter)
Dyera costulata (syn. D. laxiflora) (Jelutong)

Elephas maximus hirsutus (Malayan Elephant)
Oncosperma tigilarium (Nibong Palm)

Arctictis binturong (Bearcat)
Dillenia indica (Elephant Apple Tree)

Tragulus kanchil (Lesser Mouse-deer)
Dillenia indica (Elephant Apple Tree)

Panthera tigris jacksoni (Malayan Tiger)
Oncosperma tigilarium (Nibong Palm)

Nycticebus coucang (Sunda Slow Loris)
Dyera costulata (syn. D. laxiflora) (Jelutong)

Pteropus vampyrus (Greater Flying Fox)
Dyera costulata (syn. D. laxiflora) (Jelutong)

Arctogalidia trivirgata (Small-toothed Palm Civet)
Dillenia indica (Elephant Apple Tree)