The old brag of my heart.

Love is?

Wed, 22 May 2013 21:07:00 +0800

“Love is a verb.” (Mayer, 2012) which is to say: that “the act of love is always a confession.” (Camus, n.d.)

I want to know what a breakup is like.

Mon, 20 May 2013 23:37:00 +0800

Break up is:

v. disperse: to cause to separate and go in different directions

Waking up in the middle of the night. Apologizing to your God, for building temples for the past and for worshiping a photograph, that face, a monument of love; such a lonely pilgrimage. Kissing the next man who speaks of devotion. One kiss, two kisses. Still devoid of emotions. Vodka, the taste of sin. Hailing a cab from a trail of broken cars. Contemplating to escape. Wanting and would not be consoled. Pulling out a cigarette. Burn, burn, burn the memories. Taking one more drag to burn, burn, burn the pain. Please take it all away, take it all, take it—a beep—

I hope you’re doing well. I love you, and I’m proud of you.

Alive. Alive once more.

Guys, you have to listen to Virginia Woolf's voice.

Mon, 13 May 2013 19:19:00 +0800

Click me! :)

You’ll thank me for this.

(I have a huge talent crush on this woman, hahahaha!)

Personal Goals

Mon, 13 May 2013 19:06:00 +0800

Be healthy/ier? Balanced diet and all that. I’ve been gaining so much weight lately (HELLO FOOD INDUSTRY) and i’ve been getting sick a lot too
Austria Summer 2014. Gotta renew the passport and take care of the papers. Pocket money too.
Try acrylic/oil or watercolor and oil pastel combination
Ukulele?
Start working on that novel and actually try to staple together all the fragments i’ve written on various sheets of paper, on different days. (because i don’t have a notebook for that)
New Job around April or May next year? Maybe in the clinical setting this time? Plus the patience to last that long in my current job

so yeah? let’s do this. whatevs, this makes sound really shallow i guess

I’ve never been loved like this. Never been loved like this. Never been. Never will again....

Thu, 09 May 2013 23:16:38 +0800

I’ve never been loved like this. Never been loved like this. Never been. Never will again. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

This is for the moments that refuse to be named, fragments that have landed on the ground like a...

Thu, 09 May 2013 21:36:00 +0800

This is for the moments that refuse to be named, fragments that have landed on the ground like a grenade. Something inside me wants to get out. Maybe they’re shadows. maybe they’re stars. Call them what you will. This insatiable fire. This boundless force. Like a plot hidden under my repentant tongue. I don’t know what I’ve become but I don’t get paid to imagine. I don’t know anything about the descent. Except for the part where I started to use the form of past tense.

Fragmented memories. That classic air. That visual feast. That olfactory landscape. Your face, a...

Tue, 07 May 2013 22:02:39 +0800

Fragmented memories. That classic air. That visual feast. That olfactory landscape. Your face, a clear definition, of what love looked like.

This brain is a crowd. These neurons have been rain-dancing for hours—sulfuric acid...

Mon, 06 May 2013 21:24:19 +0800

This brain is a crowd. These neurons have been rain-dancing for hours—sulfuric acid everywhere. They’re all having fun. They’re all having fun with me, as they chant, “Relapse, relapse.”

There is no room for negotiation when your heart is no longer your own. So you start to beg, beg,...

Fri, 03 May 2013 22:40:00 +0800

There is no room for negotiation when your heart is no longer your own. So you start to beg, beg, beg for your need to be turned inside out, to make everything truly vacant, that is to say: to make rooms free from ghosts that lingered in your sheets. Admit it. You’ve been swallowing compasses in hopes of finding a home, burning bridges in defiance to what has gone. Listen. We’re lost, okay? But we’re lost together.

Hey there. Not to sound high and mighty but in your latest poem, I think you meant to say "it is now safe to..." instead of "it is safe now." Kinda make it more "flowy", right? Just thought it might be a typo or whatever.

Tue, 30 Apr 2013 22:10:00 +0800

Hello there, not high and mighty person. :)

I appreciate the message. It’s not a typo. I deliberately wrote that line in that structure to give it a stop. Like a chunk of sorts. It wasn’t meant to flow. It was meant to pause for a brief moment, while we ask, “Safe from what? From all kinds of things?”

Because hey, even a gun has a safety grip.

Did that make sense? Ugh, I suck at explaining things, sorry.

This is for the transparency that calls itself love. For that glorious feast. For our trumpet...

Mon, 29 Apr 2013 22:04:36 +0800

This is for the transparency that calls itself love. For that glorious feast. For our trumpet hearts, defeating the howling wind. For April showers and enormous summer flowers, among other things. It is safe now to open the covers. It is safe now to open our eyes. It is safe now to open our senses. It is safe now, to ask you to stay.

Fret not, dear heart. This isn’t the letting go. Here’s to the launching, the...

Thu, 04 Apr 2013 00:12:37 +0800

Fret not, dear heart. This isn’t the letting go. Here’s to the launching, the triggering, the setting off. Le declenchement. Le declenchement. Le declenchement. From this, we draw our strength.

This is the beginningof the taking.In me is a vessel,And I want, I want you—to fill it.

Fri, 22 Mar 2013 00:01:13 +0800

This is the beginning
of the taking.

In me is a vessel,
And I want,
I want you—

to fill it.

You and me, from inch to infinity.

Mon, 25 Feb 2013 19:42:42 +0800

You and me, from inch to infinity.

I’m an explorer. You’re my favorite ghost town.

Tue, 29 Jan 2013 00:25:16 +0800

I’m an explorer. You’re my favorite ghost town.

Tell me about yourself. What are you like?

Tue, 08 Jan 2013 16:53:51 +0800

A catastrophe of fragile bones and a broken soul.

There are things that I find too difficult to do. Like dancing. Posing in front of the camera....

Tue, 01 Jan 2013 21:25:00 +0800

There are things that I find too difficult to do. Like dancing. Posing in front of the camera. Finding hope in stars. Seeing faces in flower fields. Believing that happiness can be real. Few years ago I kissed you because I was burning bright, but now, I hold on to you because I’m already out of life. There was something about you that my skin had fully memorized, but I’m no longer the same person who I was that day. I was naive and reckless. Now I’m bloody-lipped and despondent. Such hopeless cause. Such quiet desperation. I knew you felt the change when you said, “Your pain is my pain.” I wanted to cry, but I was all out of tears. Oh, love. You’re too good to be hurt. You’re too good to be true. Good enough to say, “It will always be you, only you.”

My christmas present to tumblr

Thu, 27 Dec 2012 00:49:00 +0800

dmterminology:

I will design a custom logo or tattoo for whoever re blogs this before December 28. It will be based on your blog.

I dont care how many people reblog and i appologize ahead of time if im drawing for the next five years. I DO promise an art thing for whoever reblogs(assuming you dont delete your page or some thing). You can count on it! c;

Cool beans!

Merry Christmas, C. You know that I’ve become long-term-goal-phobic due to unfortunate...

Tue, 25 Dec 2012 22:23:26 +0800

Merry Christmas, C. You know that I’ve become long-term-goal-phobic due to unfortunate circumstances, but hey, I’m good for another five or fifty years if you are. What do you say?

You beautiful person. You brilliant creature. Tell me what you want from this, and I promise not to...

Wed, 19 Dec 2012 14:35:00 +0800

You beautiful person. You brilliant creature. Tell me what you want from this, and I promise not to leave you stranded in unwritten love letters or in my dying dreams. Your presence gives my happiness a pulse, this slow but consistent beat. So I say yes to slow dancing, with advance apologies for stepping on your feet. I say yes to forgoing God’s eighth commandment, to steal kisses with you at the back of the cab. I say yes to this childish standstill, where we gab about this growing optimism, even to the point where we reach the ache, the plead, and the fall.