Thursday, August 13, 2009
post 248: a whole lot of nothing
i crave made-from-scratch pizza,
a day for sleeping in
and something to do.
5:32 PM
post 247: what is this i feel and why is it that i feel the way i do?
i'd like to carve a cave in my chest
and rip my heart out
and stab it
until i stop feeling like i have goddamned butterflies
in my tummy
and until i stop wishing i could relive
the time
spent lying down
and doing absolutely nothing
oh god.
i'm so fucking pathetic.
5:02 PM
Saturday, August 8, 2009
post 246: in my backyard there is a rusty tree that grows no leaves and is made of iron
we're all pretty fucking disposable
don't you think?
10:58 PM
post 245: will you scatter my ashes where they wont be found

rawr..?
3:55 PM
Friday, August 7, 2009
post 244: tears and a tightened throat is a diamond grenade on display
the only thing that glitters is gold.
11:42 PM
Thursday, August 6, 2009
post 243: lethal attack of the hair straighteners
HAPPY BIRTHDAY SH-EYE!!
UR LEGAL NOW!!
LOVE U N MISS U HEAPSSS!
12:00 AM
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
post 242: lethargy
the fatigue is getting to me :'(
11:05 PM
Monday, August 3, 2009
post 241: love letters, cheap printers and finger puppets.
my imaginary polar bears
are sitting in the halls
where they await my company
and for my embrace
the only time where i
won't feel as lonely
as i do
for the lies and ideas
behind these incandescent eyes
flourish in denial
where the grass is greener than
green itself
and satisfaction
sits on the picket fence
what a wonderful picture
to be painting
on a canvas
at the back of a skull
and there it shall rest
among the polariods
and portraits
that will forever lay
forgotten
like the sweet tinge
of another's lips
on a humid day
by a pool
of turquoise
btw, Alex Ng Yong Ming is handsome and has cute emo hair :)
dipole-dipole interactions, hydrogen bonds and hugs from my sister Joann
6:17 PM
Sunday, August 2, 2009
post 240: i've got my veins all tangled close to the juke box buzz you frequent, the safest place to hide
I.i spend sleep like it means nothing
sleep, i wasted, writing a letter in my head
to you
and sense it failed to create
a story unravelled, however,
in my mind
feelings, feelings
she screamed, in her head, at least
a faulty larynx, was to blame
for she could never really show him
what she really meant
distorted images, and a cliched painted smile
red, red, red like the rose she held
so close
to her heart
a permanent polaroid
still undeveloped
II.ray-zer-ray-zer-why-err
tongues of razorwire
they kill they cut they kill and cut
why paint the town in your red?
paint it black!
and the liars'd be shivering in their pants
instead
tilted head sympathy
for the imbeciles you've learnt to love
but never hate
spilt ink is better than spilt crimson any goddamned day
well, at least that's what morality thinks
but then
again
who ever follows morality, so religiously?
10:00 PM