His Poem

Time is Just a Perception

2006-10-16T11:34:00.000+08:00

10 years in the talking, and it has finally begun. Jeane, Boo n I got our first gig. Introducing The 3 Asian Girls Down From The Block.. So we were on stage, at Timbre, after going into our first song, the debut single going by the same name. I glanced at Jeane to acknowlege our move into the next song. I blinked, and as i reopened my eyes, I'm somewhere else.

I'm running along a big canal, lined with green metal partitions. Someone is chasing me, running along forward, I expect to be widening the distance between me and my agressor. Instead, I run into him. A dark Indian man, dressed like a hard labourer. He grabs my hands, and I scream. What the hell's happening? How did I get here? I pull my wrists downward with force and manage to free myself through the weakest link of his grip, between the thumbs and fore fingers. I run back to where I was from but he seemed to get ahead of me again. I just can't seem to outrun him. I'm crying for help. Kamal's supposed to be here at 11am. It's now 12pm.

Wait a minute. I'm supposed to meet him here tomorrow. How did I get to tomorrow now?

The Truth Treatment

2006-09-28T16:40:00.000+08:00

Tranquilizer's Delight : Solid, Liquid, Silence

2006-08-08T12:01:00.000+08:00

And in tranquilizers delight,
Those wild, lingering thoughts dance on my finger tips,
They dance on my eyelids.
Was my tongue to sing?
Was my tongue to taste?
They dance on the hairs of my forearms.

In this tranquilizer's delight,
Those tasteless, soothing piano keys flow into my nostrils,
Down my throat,
Through my ribs,
Up my head.
It forms a rainbow in my eyes
But my tongue has yet to praise,
My tongue has yet to pronounce
Your silence.

I'm Not Sorry, It's Human Nature

2006-08-06T22:38:00.000+08:00

The new tenant moved in today. A guy. I think his name is Zhirong. I only saw him for a moment before I left the house. Alright kinda guy, chinese and pretty decent in appearance. But when I came back, he asked to speak to me in private. So I invited him into my room, then I said he could speak. He found it hard to begin, but when he did, it was hard for me to take in.

He found my diary entry, the single sheet that fell out from my book, the one I was frantically trying to find for a few months now. He spoke in detail how he found it sick that I could think of such things, that I could want my ex-boyfriend to "come to the breasts of a much older woman, and take her milk for gall". He was disgusted, and after that talk, he packed his bags and left. Honestly, that older woman thing was just a misquoted line from Macbeth. And I was obviously angry at that moment. Sigh. These unread people. Better for him to leave then.

Over the next few days, another new tenant moved in. A young woman named Candice. As usual, I briefed her of the house rules, and I had to leave for a meeting. I certainly did not anticipate my welcome home.

Coming back and stepping into my room, Candice stormed in with that single sheet in her clenched fist. She was practically boiling over. How the hell did she get it? She fumed about how she saw a piece of paper fluttering about and landing halfway behind my cupboard (and what was she doing in my room anyway?!!). Thus she picked it up and read it.

She said she found it insulting. I told her it was not her business to go around treading on private property, then she exploded! She was screaming about how I shouldn't write about other people that way, and that we as humans ought to have nothing but love for each other. I told her she was crazy, then she shoved me! We started struggling, I'm telling you, crazy people are strong! I was really fighting back, trying to push her to the ground so I can pin her down. Then out of the blue, she pulled out a syringe full of clear liquid. She aimed it at me, and the needle stuck in my arm for a moment then she pulled it out in our tussle and some of the squirting liquid got into my eye as well.. I got to say it here. BLOODY HELL!

My eye started to slack. The effect was immediate. It started to lose muscle control, and somehow I could see myself. My slack eye was looking to the ground and I saw a mix of half-floor half-crazy-girl-coming-for-me. My arm lost its strength too, and I was freaking out. What the hell was happening? What did she do to me! Candice started freaking out too. She started screaming, that crazy girl. Then the last thing I said to her was,"It's just a diary entry, for goodness sake!!"

For Just One

2006-07-13T23:06:00.000+08:00

Even if for just a second
You'd know what it was like,
I'll throw a chance at you.

Even if for just a moment
You told me you would try,
I'll take a chance for you.

Even if for just knowing
That you could almost fly,
I'll cut the chords and draw your breath
And take a chance with you.

Lamentations

2006-07-06T19:36:00.000+08:00

Take away all your sorrow.
Lay them all on me.
They'll beg, they'll make you steal and borrow,
Even make you feel you're free.
But think not of this toll till tomorrow.
All the trouble,
All the toil,
God-forsaken, blood-stained soil.
In this world of words that boil,
Years of planning, yet they foil.
Lay them all on me.

I Saw A Bit Of Paradise That...

2006-06-26T16:28:00.000+08:00

I was afraid I'll forget..

Karma

2006-06-23T02:17:00.000+08:00

What's horrifying is you think you look better in a facial mask, with only your lips, eyes and nostrils exposed.

What's horrifying is you suspect whether all the good you're doing is just trying to score brownie points for heaven.

What's horrifying is you're beginning to endorse the same values as your parents and the things you say sound strangely from those same parents.

What's horrifying is you're at peace with all of the above.

In The Eyes Of A Stranger

2006-05-14T03:01:00.000+08:00

I was at the polyclinic to check on something that might be a concern. When I finally got my chance to see the doctor, I was surprised to go through the doors and see a nurse sitting in place of the white coat. After sharing with her my symptoms, she diagnosed that I might be suffering cancer, but in order to prove it, she'll need to take porn poses of me, in public, in front of the other patients. I reacted the way any (half) decent girl would. NO WAY! This is sexual harrassment! So I ran off, but I needed my medicine, and since I didn't want to wait around in the same horrid building, I went to a neighbouring polyclinic with the presciption in hand.

Over at the counter, just as the medicine was about to be handed to me, the disgusting nurse came running by, instructing the other nurse not to sell them to me because I violated "the rules". Put off and in a desperate disposition, I ran to NTUC hospital.

The place was confusing. The reception was so difficult to get to, and I had to ask a million times for direction before I finally got there. I was then directed to the presciption counter, which was right smack in the middle of a waiting room for patients that weren't in emergency, but were suffering in pain all the same. Just flanking the seats was a make-shift operation room separated by just those hospital-blue plastic curtains. There was a strange moaning sound of spurts of extreme pain and discomfort. It was unsettling to hear, so I went to investigate.

Peeping through the gaps, I saw first the feet, then the body of a pre-teen boy wriggling on a transportable bed in seizures. A team of 4 doctors and nurses were trying to hold him down, they had their faces covered in hygene masks, and they were decked out in green surgical robes, whispering in hushed, anxious tones. The boy's skin was badly bruised all over, but the strange thing is that the bruises were coming and going at a constant change of blues, greens and browns. I was horrified. With my hand to my mouth, short of breathing, a small crowd began to gather where I was.

The next thing I saw might traumatise you for life. His feet, pointing in my direction, began to disappear into his ankles. They seemed like they were being sucked in with a strong but limited breath. His feet appeared again, then disappeared once more, leaving stumps cut short at the end of his shins. I was motionless and mortified.

News got round that he was suffering from a new and rare virus infection that would eat up a person's insides at an alarming rate, and in order to do so, it had an ultra high metabolic rate that used up more oxygen than available in the cavity of a person, thus creating a vacuum within the human body. The result would be disappearance or shrinking, not unlike what I had just witnessed.

The poor boy was convulting, the pain immeasurable. As the doctors where trying to control his flailing limbs, I caught a glimpse of his eyes. They looked above him, into space, thoughtless and in torture. I only saw mostly his pupils, black and wet and depthless, squeezed half open. Then, his head got sucked into his neck. I was crying, my mind was frantic. Just within the time I took to draw in a breath of horror, he got sucked into himself, leaving nothing. Like the concept of the black hole, which is the opening of a space of vacuum. Anything and everything in close proximity would get drawn into it.

5 seconds of tension. That's all that was left hanging in the air. An overbearing overcast of an imposing disaster. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. Then... BANG! The skin of the upper torso of the boy was spit out from nothing, slapping onto those plastic hospital curtains. It slowly dragged itself down by the law of gravity. Those eyes, now just two empty spaces, went down to the ground, leaving a thick trail of fluid and blood.

Ambiguous Spurrings of a Passive Aggressive

2006-03-24T10:38:00.000+08:00

Somewhere during my journey home, something inside me spurred. I just got so frustrated. I tried to control it, but my eyes blinked with a certain force at a man who just happened to exchange glances with me. Boarding the bus, I tapped my card on the electronic sensor with impatience and my feet took charge, stomping the ground with an unexplained anger. I crossed the street rather recklessly while a car zoomed by, glaring its headlights as a warning, my stance exuding such hostility. The buttons in the lift retorted with an agitated click as I punched in my level. I need to breathe, I told myself. This is absurd. The lock to my gate almost turned an impossible extra round with my thinning tolerance, and the door to my room closed before my family could even get a glimpse of my return. I took to my bed. My sanctuary. My confidante. With my face buried in the pillow, I tried to relax, but my heart was still racing. I tried to force sobbing, but no tears wanted to flow. So my hands took charge by punching the pillow. Punch the fucking thing, and the friction from it felt like sparks were coming off, starting a fire. I imagined someone, something I was so pissed off at, and scolded its non-existence, "FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKIN FUCKA!" It didn’t help. In fact, it let out more rage, I could see my fist meeting the wall, ending in a limp, but instead I clenched my teeth so so so tight till my jaws hurt and my brain rebelled. Nothing I did helped. Walking to the bathroom with a forced pace, I showered with vengeance, scrubbing my skin like the dirt is glued on me. For that moment, my frustration calmed down a decimal. But it was short-lived. The blood was rushing on a hyper, and I needed something to distract me after my bath, so I picked up my book, but my eyes sped through the words just to satisfy the action, after one page, the attention span was reduced to nothing, so I switched my computer on, waiting for it to load up with such purposed calmness, it felt so straightjacketed. Finally, finally, I could pound out these unexplained emotions, trying to beat the rush hour traffic of my adrenaline.

Lady Lace

2006-03-20T13:00:00.000+08:00

I was walking along the short pathway connecting my block to the shop under the next block when I noticed a very faint shadow overcast. Looking up, the immediate sky was shrouded in the most delicate web, spun in an organized intricacy, sheltering the entire pathway, using the few spartan trees alongside as an anchor. The web looked divine, illuminated by the afternoon sunshine. It was curiously bedazzling. And then, along the edge crawled the spider, the homemaker, a very average-sized red one with a round bum. In its little leg, it carried the tiniest white lacy egg sac spun from the most delicate of spider silks. It carefully inched along with that one raised leg, and as I stood to observe, as if it knew I was watching, the spider started to swing the tiny sac like a rodeo swinging his lasso. Out from the spaces of the lacy pouch flung the eggs of the spider. I was rained on by these specks and I started cringing from getting spider seeds in my hair. The red spider continued to empty the sac by swinging and swinging it. In time, the egg seeds would sprout from the ground tiny red spiders, all waiting to do the same.

The Brink Of Tears

2006-02-28T20:31:00.000+08:00

Heart beating.
Blood trickling, tickling, tinkling, pumping,
Flowing, moving, heating up, and tensing.
An eternity in a moment,
The space in an emotion,
Lost, gone, closed.
You hold not my heart but my life.
Still, unmoving, breathing.
My face against your love.
No shield, no barrier, but fear,
Lifted, facing its gnawing jaws.
I'll jump the void,
Filled with the brink of tears.
The heat, the fears,
Closed, unseeing, feeling, and embracing.
Within a drop, the utmost vow.
The words unuttered,
The courage mustered.
Just hold me,
Frozen, broken, healing,
Tearing,
Spoken.

Gone The Left Way

2006-02-28T20:23:00.000+08:00

Three of us run from the crowds into a quieter lane. Ben, Jon and I. There’s money in my pocket. Loads. This lane in quite wide, but we turn into a smaller lane, and yet another smaller lane, the backs of street-side stalls, where it’s wetter and darker.
We’re still running, hoping they aren’t still chasing us. We don’t see them, and we’re hoping they’ve given up chase, but we’re not risking that. Jon suddenly runs off in a different direction in the confusion. Ben and I run towards the corner church. There’s a back door which Ben opens and we hide in the corner of the dark stair landing.

Jon sees where we run towards. He stops. He’s suddenly not afraid. He walks towards the church as if he is just any other innocent bystander on the street. Just as he passes the back door Ben and I went behind, the thugs came walk-running by, as if looking for someone. Jon tips his head in our direction, takes out a cigarette, lights it and walks away, back towards home.

At the stair landing, behind the door, Ben and I are huddled up in the corner, in the dark. Afraid and breathing hard, our faces are really close. We have grown up together, including Jon, and have always looked out for each other. But Ben and I share a special something. At this moment, the intensity of the situation pulls us emotionally together and we end up kissing. The past few months have been tumultuous. There’s no more peace on the streets. Not even when we sleep. I’m crying. I feel his touch, there’s so much love in it and it’s taking the load off me. I’m holding him, afraid that he’ll not be here tomorrow. Suddenly, light pours in, the door is open and the two thugs are standing there. Darkness takes over again and we’re beaten up relentlessly, pushed down the stairs to be beaten up again. They hit Ben a lot more. No one hears the noise, or my screams. After a while, we’re left there. It hurts too much to move, or cry, or make any sound. It’s just our spasmodic breathing, the tears streaming down my face through closed, swollen eyes.

Almost. This almost happens.

Instead. Ben and I are huddled up in the corner, in the dark. Afraid and breathing hard, our faces are really close. We have grown up together, including Jon, and have always looked out for each other. But Ben and I share a special something. At this moment, the intensity of the situation pulls us emotionally together and just as our lips are about to meet, coins fall out from my pocket. They roll down a flight of stairs and Ben goes to get them. I suddenly get very afraid. A feeling of foreboding forces me to follow Ben down the flight of stairs, then I push him out though another door that leads into the reception area of the church. We smile because the church is pretty. The marble flooring makes the air cool and crisp. We haven’t had this sense of serenity in quite a while.

The thugs open the backdoor to where we were. No one’s there, but they find two coins on the ground. One goes to pick it up and they move away.

Jon walks home. He’s pumping with adrenalin. Although he’s not comfortable with what he did, he knows he’ll be bitter for the rest of his life if Ben and Nic start their lives anew, happy together, and with the money. He’d be alone. Nic would never, and has never looked at him the way she does with Ben. If his plan goes accordingly, as it has all day, they would be paralyzed, ugly, and the money taken from them. They’d probably still have each other, but what’s the point?

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Jon is in church, clean, in a suit. He carries an air of confidence He turns towards me as I walk in, a look of astonishment on his face. There’s real surprise, more like shock. He looks at my heels, the ends of my skirt hanging around my knees, the whole dress, then my face. I smile at him, glad to see he’s looking good. Just as I’m about to give Jon a hug, Ben walks in. Everything slows down. We’re walking towards each other now. Everything disappears. He’s shining and he looks radiant, full of life. I’m so relieved to see he’s ok. All my love is rushing back to me. All these months, taken from us. Finally, we reach each other. We hug each other so tight. The tears are welling in my eyes. He pulls away, looks at my face and wipes my tears away. Our lips meet. Then he turns me around and I see a little boy, 6 or 7 of age, and I instantly recognize him. Ben’s little brother! I kneel down to hold him close, to have a good look. I’m overjoyed! The turmoil of the past year did not take away my friends. We walk towards the reception, hand-in-hand with Ben and his brother, sort of walking-dancing to the Christmas music.

Jon is in the church hall, in conflict with himself. He’s ashamed, and disappointed, thinking all this while that he had destroyed his source of bitterness. He is shocked at himself, that he could be so heartless. I walk in. He tries to gain composure. I see him looking a little unsettled. I sit beside him and look at the huge crucifix before me. Jon clears his throat, then asks.

What happened that day?
The money fell from my pocket, we panicked, then we ran from the stairs.
Into the church?
My gosh! How did you know?
Erm, I saw you go in.

A stream of light comes in from the back of me. We turn and it’s Ben.
Sorry, hey Nickies, I wanna sign the guestbook with you.
I smile and turn to Jon. I’ll see you in the hall! And I walk off, towards the door.

Ben is signing the guestbook, and puts both our names on the same line. I look at him and ask how his mom was.
She’s good. She gets to stay at home now.
Where do you stay now?......

Home On The Hill

2006-01-03T23:39:00.000+08:00

Trudging through darkness to show me your gift
Timed so precise that the whole world would freeze.
At the strike of the hand, the stars on crazy release
Awoke in me all those years that I've missed.

Oh welcome back to my home on the hill
Where I tended the weeds or just sat by the sill.
We're years away but you call just to say
Welcome back to my home on the hill.

Breaking to bits, the fireworks fall apart,
Leaving the sky a black canvas, a card
That signs, 'Hello my friend, here is my heart.
Been waiting all along, behind in your yard.'

The Laden Bride

2005-12-23T08:53:00.000+08:00

These eyes were met when thine
Wrought my heart of serpentine.
These wrists I woefully slain,
Courage so thought of in disdain.
Pain screamed out with delight
As scarlet lit the darkest night.
If thou had witnessed, if thou had cried,
Taketh oath in the ritual of the scarring bride.
To have the veil lifted, giving thou sight,
Then trespassed the road of her hopeful flight.
Thine eyes would have met mine,
As I cradle thee in irony's saline.
Those wounds I'll close with the thread of flame,
Bearing a mark so nought beast can claim.
Pain screamed out with delight
As scarlet babe lit the darkest night.

Creature Or Your Life

2005-12-14T09:41:00.000+08:00

Pitch black. Beneath my feet, rough sand. And at places, cold, hard uneven rock, like a badly paved cement floor. Between breathing through the regulator and frantic arms stretched out to make sure my team was still with me, I could feel tiny creatures scuttle between my feet, brushing past my ankles and sometimes, a furry fluttering of little wings hitting kamikazi into my calves.

Gross.

Blind, cold, and 2,000 miles under water. That is beyond gross. That is courting death.

Without warning, the lights came on. We were standing in a tight bunch, all 7 of us, at the bottom edge of the kerb that circled this secret aqua-desert. And instead of our wet suits, we had on our everyday clothes. Squinting as my eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness, I was almost hating myself for choosing that knee-length dress. Those scuttling creatures that gave me the jitters were colourless and transluscent. All of them albino. Their body juices of white against white flowing languidly, pale in colour and unstable in nature. Looking at them and their weak, intricate exoskeletons really made me feel sick. Being touched by them made me cringe with shivers.

We all looked at the leader, a chinese lady with a forgettable face, watching the hand signals that point to the regulator, it was instructions to remove the breathing apparatus.

"Trust." she said.

And we did. It's amazing, this feeling. To be able to breathe like a fish, while seeking out the abyss. The mysteries of the deep, dark ocean felt infinite and intimate. The soul finding temporary comfort in this cusion of water.

SNAPPING JAWS AND GLOWING EYES! The image flashed, a documentary scene on the previously unexplored mysteries of the sea. Sporadically, these alarming images would appear.

I kept expecting to see one of those hideous, light-emitting creatures to charge at us. Them afraid by us being afriad of them. Then...

Sssssss..........slither!

A snake! A black one, a baby serpent struck like lightning right through the middle of the group and vanished at such speeds that my brain stalled. I forgot to breathe. I forgot to move.

As my heart regained composure, the forgettable chinese lady told us to gather in a group. "Take this very seriously." she said, "or we'll be stuck here, forever underground, forever underwater." And we did. We must put the regulator back on, and breathe in sync as a group, this single strand of breath will create a binding uni-omni-energy that will bring us back to the mountain-nurturing, cloud-rolling lands that we know better. As we put it to our mouths, slowly pacing ourselves for one another, we couldn't breathe! We choked on the air that wanted to drill its way down our lungs. It's like breathing water to mammals, and it hurts. Afraid that we'll be banished to this barren aqua-desert forever, we tried it again. Slowly, slowly, to our faces...together...

Plop! Plop!

A palm-sized green creature hopped by. Green and spotted, it had a rather weird tail. It was dark brown and twig-like, and it was connected to a pear turned on its side. As my eyes moved down the pear, there was the creature's legs, stout and stumpy with sticky, webbed feet. The end of the pear, a frog's head. Amazing!

Then... I started choking again.

Eve

2005-12-07T10:13:00.000+08:00

Of the sun that sleeps at dusk
Sets us free and we run
Moments fly and we find
Covet love and lost time

Took the fruit forbid of thine
Red and calling in the night
Close my eyes and I see not
Taste the sweetness of old wine

Off he went, with my tears
And my fears to fend
On the ground, stained with blood
Sweet, old wine that's spilled out from the glass

Emily Rose

2005-11-24T20:47:00.000+08:00

I don't know what implications might evolve with me writing this, but heck. I am a blessed child of God. Wait a min... so was Emily Rose..

Ever heard of Spawn? And the merchandises? Good. So did my eldest brother, Gab. He loved them, in all their ugliness and monstrosity. Some were alien-like, with a jaw inside a jaw for a face, others were demonic, dark and evil. He began with buying just one, and soon, he seemed to make it a habit to buy one every other day. The room started filling up with these creatures, in the cupboards, on top of the desk, even spilling out onto the floor. Gab seemed.. obssessed with them.

Then one night, my second brother, Raf, who shares the room with him and the collection of fiendish toys, got awoken by loud swearing and cursing just beside his ear. If you've watched the movie, The Exorcism of Emily Rose, he says the voices were just like that.

"I'm gonna fuckin kill you all... fuckin bastard ..c***.. ."

There's more.. I'm scared, trust me. It was vehement and spiteful, a vociferous roll of vulgarities, violent and fierce with hatred. This is not all.

Raf was held down, taken hostage, rendered immobile. He tried to open his eyes but his eyelids were clammed shut. A loud wailing, a kind of diabolic siren starting screaming in waves, pulsing loud and louder still. It wasn't a voice, it was more like a kind of energy emitting a dreadful and fearsome sound.

There's really nothing you can do, or Raf or Emily, but to surrender yourself to prayer. Raf started praying the Our Father in his mind.. over and over again, until this force, this spiritual abductor, started fading away.

The toys have since been put away. And after that, no more such experiences. Obsession is also a kind of possession. There are many ways you can render yourself susceptible to the stronghold of the devil, but I shall leave that for another day. In the meantime, pray for me. I've told my story.

The Our Father

Our Father in heaven,
holy be your name
Your kingdom come,
your will be done,
on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us today our daily bread,
And forgive us our sins
As we forgive those who sin against us.
Do not bring us to the test,
but deliver us from evil.
Amen.

Somewhere Between the Forgotten and the Unknown

2005-11-16T01:17:00.000+08:00

I recieved a HUGE card today, from Charlene and her fiance, Paul. The card wishes me a very Merry Christmas, and attached randomly all over the front of the card that spans the length of my arm, are many metallic gold, industial-looking alphabetic locks that spell the names of all my buddies: JEANE, JOCELYN, ELIZABETH, the list goes on for about 15 names, so you can imagine how heavy the card is. I found my own name and proceeded to hang it on the christmas tree standing too tall on the right side of my computer table in my bedroom, just in front of the window. The tree's top pressed against the ceiling, bending to accomodate its own height. It's at that moment, searching for just the right branch to hang my NICOLETTE-lock when my breath was snatched from me, caught in the sight of utter reverence.

A field of mud stretching farther than the eye can see, in this cold, rainy, tropical monsoon season of an impending Christmas. My entire neighbourhood, gone. Just my block standing in the middle like the fortress of a forlorn kingdom. My thirteenth floor apartment standing on its own with glass windows gaping far out both ways to view its empire. I was both astonished and bewildered. The cold night breeze was forcing its way through the 2-inch gap of the window panels, slowly freezing my lips, nose and neck, tossing my hair about and pouring in this wonder of a trillion blazing stars of emerald, ruby and turquoise.

The sulking sky was lit with them! Clusters of colour burned intensely, like Zeus had spilled his vast collection of gems under the bed and was just too old and brittle to bend over to pick them up. Stars all over were falling fiercely to their deaths, trailing their last bursts of fire. Beneath this spitting blanket lay the centre of time. A single 18th century railway track of thick, black iron cut diagonally across the wet, slippery ground, disappearing into a tunnel of space. Couples in Victorian garments were scurrying across the landscape, hiding their faces under nylon umbrellas of all colours that seem to glow in luminescence. More ancient people were pouring out of an urban light rail transit (LRT) system on the far left side of this abandoned empire in urgency and silence.

In between, where the air rushed about in a hurry, carrying kisses of cold tears, were helicopters and blimps and space mobiles fighting for a place to land, for a dimension to dissolve into, for passengers to deliver, eating into the margins of others, beeping in a fluster against the crowd. They all seemed to be moving in and out of nowhere, travelling between the forgotten and the unknown, oblivious to the eye watching them behind transparent walls.

His Poem

2005-11-15T22:23:00.000+08:00

Your poem reminds me of knights and warriors before I fall.
Before me, I see pictures not the same. What are they for?
I've wondered if you ever knew I felt this way.

Let me run forever, with gifts upon flowers,
In the grassy fields where floods don't cover,
Where I walk with you,
Where there's mercy and colour,
Where there's glory and skill.
Then there's love, and the power,
And the infinite few.