Refuse

My eyes refuse to close.

My mind wanders off to

find an anchor as the

ship of my feelings drift

off to another land where

every thing is perfect.

My brain refuses to shut down.

In seconds, midnight becomes

morning and I never got a

wink of rest, all the time I

was thinking of what I

should have said to you

back then.

My lungs refuse to bring in a new breath of air.

Dear Mama

Dear Mama

I really miss you. I really do. Sometimes, I wonder where you are, and what you are doing. I long to hear your voice speaking to me once again. At this ungodly hour, as I am typing this letter, I remember the days when you would peek your head in to see if I was asleep whenever you got home. If I was awake, you would call me out to eat something that you brought back from the shop. If I wasn't, you would just smile and then close the door, knowing I would always be there.

Today, I was walking in Bugis+, alone. Remember when it first opened as this shabby new mall called 'Iluma'? You were so excited about it that we immediately went in even though there was practically nothing to buy. I can still picture you holding my hand as we climbed floor after floor, peering into the unfinished shops. At the very top floor, there was a CD shop. I remember that day when I asked you if I could buy a CD set home to watch, of an anime that was not as famous as others. You bought it for me without even much of a thought, and smiled with me on the way home.

As I look up to see the photo on the wall, I see you, Daddy and Kai Wen. The photo was taken at Sentosa during Chinese New Year period, when I was away in Thailand with Papa. Sometimes, I wonder if that would have made the perfect family. Just the mother, the father and the child, all related by blood and happiness.

And then I remember that we had many photos together, just the two of us, tucked away in a drawer I keep under lock and key.

Do you remember that time when we were at Ah Ma's funeral? You were already sick with cancer by then. We were folding hell notes and the family was being cheered up by Si Gu. All of a sudden, the topic shifted to our family. It shifted to, specifically, me.

I didn't know how they felt it, but I remember one of them asking, "Max, are you gay?"

My cousins were so immature they started pretending to be all feminine. I just instinctively said, "No." I had no idea what was going through my subconscious. Perhaps, it was the fact that I could possibly be taunted for being someone different. Maybe it was just because I was too nice to let them know about my true self.

But I saw your face when they asked that question, and I knew that if I told the truth to you, you would probably love me as much as you always had.

Mama, I regret it. I really, really do.

I went out with someone today, you know? Someone who I like. He is a lot like you, actually. Same skin tone; same lips; same eyes. When I hug him, it feels akin to hugging you all over again. He wasn't alone though. He was with his friends. But I wished he was.

Maybe if you were here, things would be a little more different. I could tell you that I have a crush on this boy, and then we would talk about all the failed relationships in your life and how you overcome stupidity within some people. You would tell me all about how Papa and you shared so many wonderful memories together even before you were married.

I cried on the train today on the way back from all of our memories. Maybe I also cried because I couldn't spend any more time with someone I liked, or that I know that I can't tell this someone I like him.

When I was younger, you would take me to beach resorts by evening drives. I remember watching the lights on the street fly by as we sped along the highways of Thailand, with not a care in the world.

Today, it feels like I'm back on the same road, just that the lights are all switched off, and I have no idea where you are, or where we are going.

When I got back, I played a song that you loved from young.

If we hold on together

I know our dreams will never die

Dreams see us through to forever

Where clouds roll by

For you and I

I know you don't read English, but if you can see this, I hope I can see you. At least, in my dreams. I miss you so much.

Love you

Max

Departure

Sometimes I wish we could

Speak freely

Light as a feather

In a beautiful world

Flutter away in winds

Of tide and time again

Who knows when we

Will be torn apart?

Blood will seep through

My clothes and every soul

Who sees that I am just

Nothing but broken

So until then please

Let me enjoy the moments

A priority to stay to the end

And alas, an endless blue.

Mirai

I am still hoping for you to send me a little message. A reminder of some sort that you exist; that you think of me; that there is hope in a future where I would see you often.

Please don't go away. Please don't step out so early, so soon. I'm not ready yet.

Release

Always there exist
A silent wish
Hoping there would be
Close proximity

Mutual understanding
Sometimes I feel
Lost from all
This madness

Would you please
Let me down gently
Just like all the others
And let me go

I'll get over you
Someway or another
But not in this existence
Of in between

I need to stop
Thinking of you in my sleep
Mourning for others who've gone
There it is, again

Known Stranger

I feel like I have
This scar on my face
That activates fear
Pain hurt and anger
When my senses
Pick up the presence
Of a known stranger

No One

Your mind turns blank when he walks around. Your lips utter a stutter of resignation, betraying the thundering heartbeat inside your chest. Control yourself, your inner conscience tells you. Remember that you are a black sheep covered in cloudy white wool.

And no one can see the real color beneath your skin. Not unless you deliberately show them.

Your hands reach out, attempting to touch the other without your brain’s consent. Although you know that the mask will be broken once you break the barriers, you still try. You ache and yearn for the recognition of that special someone, and hopefully… Just, hopefully, he belongs to the 4% of the world’s population that you can show your true colors to. That he’ll accept you for being you.

Mid-way, your hand stops. Your heart accelerates even faster, but now the time has gone to pass. He walks away, not even noticing your presence. You feel downtrodden, defeated, but you lug your heavy feet to your next lesson. Remember, your conscience says. Your life is planned out for you. You’re going to get married to a beautiful girl and have little children who’ll laugh as they run around the playground screaming, “Daddy! Daddy! Look at me!”

Sometimes, you wished you could just slap Conscience in the face for being such a bitch.

As you lay awake beneath the heavenly moonlight, staring at the white ceiling, you imagine a life together with him, with matching tuxedos and ringing bells. You imagine waking up to his smile as he looks at you adoringly. You imagine caressing his lustrous hair in an endearing manner. You imagine. You imagine. And then you begin to dream.

But, as they say, dreams turn into nightmares when you wake up.

In class, you hear sounds of mockery as stormy thoughts brew amongst those who could care less about your kind. You painfully support them, for who else would become friends with you? You’re hurt, but you cannot cry. You’re sad, but you have to fake a laugh.

You wished he was there to make it all better.

Whenever you see him walk by with a girl, there’s something in your heart that tugs at you. It was not fear, nor anger, nor hurt, nor jealousy. Perhaps, it was a combination of all of these emotions, thrown into a bowl to make rojak. And you swallowed it whole.

No one could understand that these emotional qualities are true. No one knows as you hide behind the lockers everyday pretending to be part of the scenery when you were actually trying to follow up on his everyday conversation. No one knows that whenever you were free, you admire the words he uploaded onto his blog.

No one can know. No one.

Loss

On days like this, I often wish you were around. I lounge around on the bed of someone else's, in a state of absolute loss, absolute uncertainty. When I look up at the bland, white ceiling, I see no trace of the memories of my life, only a clean canvas for something beautiful. Yet, as the old monsters from under the bed come back to haunt me, with the dark past, stolen hearts and words of trash, I get scared. It is desperation that drives me to the corner. But then, I notice that the light has gone out, and all around are the rumors of ghosts and ghouls. Tomorrow, they say. Wake up tomorrow, and it'll be another happy day. My mind wills my eyes  shut, but, somehow or the other, the darkness reverberates throughout my inner core. I wait. For eons, I sat and wait as the silence rings in my ears. I had no clock. I knew none of the time. The only thing I knew, was that I felt that a piece of me was missing, lost to the crows that mock my existence. I knew that daybreak wouldn't mend the wounds but merely cover them up. I knew that when daylight shines into the room, it was a signal for me to open my eyes and shut my heart. On days like this, I often wish you were around to hear me breathe, to stop my soul from decaying away, because you are that missing piece. My dear, you don't come from the moon, nor the stars, nor the sun, nor the oxygen that we breathe. You, come from the birds that chirrup happiness into the air. You, come from trees that shelter those who fear the rain. You, come from a myriad of spectacles that life has to offer. Tomorrow, won't be a happy day, but it'll be a day where happiness rings as loud as the bells do. Tomorrow, my canvas will finally be filled with color, and then, your mysterious face will finally shed the light.

Target

Amidst the chatter of the excited, a figure looms behind the wall. He stares at the luminous object in his hand. His heart thumps, as he accepted the reality of his future actions. He understood that failure would mean death. This stark contrast to the joyous atmosphere made his stomach lurch. If he should turn back, he would face the wrath of his heart for everything that the “target” has done. He never wanted to live like that again, ever.

With a courageous yet timid step, he entered the room, sliding his possession into his pockets. No one were to see this, except the two of them. As he put one foot forward after another, journeying to his possible end, he gulped in anticipation.

And there he was, facing the back of the “target”. No turning back now, he thought. It was now or never. Silently, he tapped on the shoulder of the “target”. As the “target” turned around, he whipped out his shiny object…

He saw the fear in the “target”’s dark brown eyes. He knew he had lost. The letter in his hand was rejected without a single word.