mortality, memories + good food
By the end of it, all I knew was this: He may walk away, but I, as a woman, have a mandate from this world to continue suffering. The thought of him being as traumatized as I am, that memory of ours pervading through years of finer ones, fills me with an inimitable rage so all-consuming that it simply leads me to bed for the better part of the day. It was I who was penetrated, violated, physically…
And the gutted plum prattles on. Stumbling across the chasm between degeneracy and delight, deep violet & fleshy & ripe, without a body to deprave, a presence of mouths A hard seed inside. A finger to the curve purity protracted in skin-deep wounds, all bitter juice and stained handkerchiefs spring is to come, first to emerge from the ground so gently, judgement falls, splattered romantically…
There is a woman with light flooding from her eyes. She lies flat on a rough cot in a long-forgotten block in a deserted town. "American West", "Russian Siberia", it does not matter. Empirical dust, empire's folly. Only the people are forgotten and States feast on their crumbling corpses. I don't know how to stop the light. No one has come into the room for a long time. I can't stop the bloodied…
in these brand new seconds of my waking mind there is an unimaginable warmth that breaks down a tightly wound spindle every color of thread snapped at the half-way mark the discs on my spine turning to the root note of the melody that finally rests in love i have never been able to truly sleep even once but i find myself on the wake of your torrential wave and suddenly i am gently sent to rest by…
I have a future memory of a city on a chilly winter morning from the highest floor I wake up next to you in a warm bed warm sun floods in, there is nothing better to do than bundle up in dandelion and pastel grab the keys off the hook joke down to the lobby out into a city where the tall buildings are mirrors of our life together green ornaments the concrete decorated by the pitter-patter of a…
I wish we could be city girls getting ready for the night in a tall building at a tall time. I’d kiss you once when you put on your pretty outfit and then again in front of the mirror so you can look at me. And our parents, they’d be city-minded too, and my mom would help me choose a bouquet for long days, that suits the sparkle in your eyes. And we’d walk together on the sidewalk hand in hand.…
I would love to know if there was someone out there who reads my posts What do you think my name is? Where do I live? Are you curious about me? are you curious? If you saw me in the crowd would you think I write my solmization here? Why do I change my URL sometimes? What do I look like? And if so, how long have you been reading my deeply private journal all spread out on the Internet for everyone…
PRODIGY I grew up. At Chung Hyejin’s violin studio, a buried low-rise Wan Chai tower, I brought my teacher a paper doily the day I was to leave Hong Kong for fifteen years I have played the instrument painstakingly, I wrote my Korean name, haphazardly, I scribbled my English name, and in tiny letters my Chinese name. My violin all packed up for the international flight I knew I was meant to…
i can see it i think in how short ur messages are and how your reassurance seems forced. i feel like you dont love me anymore and i hate it because i wasnt done loving you i have so so so much more to give if you would just stay please. ive never been happier than i have with you but i feel you pulling away and i reread my messages to you and i just want to delete them because i feel like you just…
FRIDAY Insatiable, my hands reach for your arms only in the dark and climb up the muscles in your shoulder, weathering your solid rock to my frigid touch. I’d love to be worldly but it always seems that there’s a hometown grocery store calling my wretched name And so gently, you wonder aloud why I dropped your hand when we walked to the fireworks show, why I wouldn’t kiss you under the eruption of…