He had only eyes. No body, no voice, only eyes. He lived on my bedroom wall, staring down. Everyday, I’d ask, “What are you doing here?” He was still. One day, he blinked And there on the sky appeared a purple cloud I liked it, yet I asked, “What did you do?” He didn’t answer. […]
Read more "He Had Only Eyes"It might as well be raining blood. Children drank and bathed and played, their laughters like prayers for the blood to keep flowing, so this life would never end, and for adults, the ichor burnt through their bones. The sands on the beach, across the street, were wet, dark, and cold. Like her rose-flavoured hot […]
Read more "Lifechild"Anatomy of the Mind (1) I look to the right, to an opened bottle of herbal, monastery liquor I bought in Italy. It tastes even better on a chilly summer night. And it keeps me foggy, a little intoxicated, and going. I won’t tell you my name. You don’t have to know. I’m just the […]
Read more "Anatomy of the Mind (1): Alter Ego"Letter from a bad friend. I never talked you into Doing things you don’t want to; That’s not what makes me bad. Just what little I agreed to sacrifice. If you’ve known me years ago, Chance is I’ve stopped talking And seeing you by now. I look past you on the bus. But I never try […]
Read more "Letter From A Bad Friend"“Hey,” I knocked on the bathroom door, “What’s your laptop password again?” “Oh. Sorry. It’s eight-three-nine-oh-one-two.” “Huh?” “Eight. Three. Nine. Oh. One. Two.” “What even are those?” “Just a series of numbers.” “Well, it has to mean something.” “Does it have to mean anything?” her laughter echoed, “You’re boring.” ———————————————————– “เฮ่” ฉันเคาะประตูห้องอาบน้ำ “พาสเวิร์ดเปิดคอมเธออะไรนะ” “เอ้อ โทษที […]
Read more "Numbers"One of my secondary schools has this course that is supposed to teach the students about ‘life’. One day just before All Saints’ Day, our teacher takes the class of eight teenagers to the town cemetery not hundreds of metres away from the school on Kerkhofstraat. I’d wager anybody can tell I’m, at the very […]
Read more "Kerkhofstraat"Sometimes I can’t hear my own voice. I never know until I am already burning. Sometimes it’s just woods on fire, cracking in my ears. My words drowned in fuel. When smoke gets in my eys, apprehension starts to well, then evaporates in an instant, I should have known; what little drops of conscience could […]
Read more "Smoked"
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