Suiteroom – Take 3

Microsoft Windows [Version 10.0.17134.829]
(c) 2018 Microsoft Corporation. All rights reserved.

C:\Users\Lune>darken puddle
‘darken puddle’ is not recognized as an internal or external command,
operable program or batch file.

C:\Users\Lune>add tears
‘add tears’ is not recognized as an internal or external command,
operable program or batch file.

C:\Users\Lune>dose check
‘dose check’ is not recognized as an internal or external command,
operable program or batch file.

C:\Users\Lune>hot tea
‘hot tea’ is not recognized as an internal or external command,
operable program or batch file.

C:\Users\Lune>stroll room
‘stroll room’ is not recognized as an internal or external command,
operable program or batch file.

C:\Users\Lune>d:

D:>cd Google Drive\Poetry

D:\Google Drive\Poetry>type Suiteroom_3.txt

No End to Start

(after Marylyn Tan’s ‘re: origin story / ARCHETYPAL EVIL’)

Being immortal is being
sated about being salted
in cycles – day and night
the pry and shut of eyes.
Once, Ah Kong was young
and fleshed out, peachy
with beginnings. A fool,
not knowing that fruiting
is the end, or figurative –
how time is tried, tested
as a painter being tired
of the biggest canvas.
Not the cosmos, but in
housing a weary start.

*Ah Kong: Romanization of the Chinese noun “阿公”, meaning Grandfather.

Moonface

The Sea of Fecundity is acne from an eternity of puberty. The dark side is always covered by hair. Acne erupts in a forest, unseen. There is no face without hair. There were phases without hair. They still insist on long hair being a phase. Being new was supposed to be the absence of a phase. Being new is being unable to face having no face. Especially without hair. Gibbous curls shift in an eclipse of a hundred years and everyone watches. An oblique profile. Picture it. Eclipses are a return to hiding. To be full of courage for one night a month only. To phase out every other day. To be up every night. To return to light pollution as home. To smile or frown without eyes to see yourself. To see eternity as a phase.

Sandbox Yearn

There is a sidewalk,
waiting for shoes while
I try to hear another pair.

Who will sparkle in moondust?

I disperse clouds with inertia
that tends towards anything, but
love is friction.

There is a city composed in
beams of starlight, within them
a window of distraction –
Of future lovers,
their quavers.

Can I improvise my desire,
to share a cloud,
in the entropy of my cells?

Anyone that wants to measure
the transparency of space
by my flickering eyes.

Inventory

Perfume that cries down your neck for you,
lipstick that will be erased without another’s.

Alcohol like water pools in your washroom,
contact lenses where no one gazes the color.

Dresses are a second skin to hug yourself,
shoes tread on pain to keep you on the ground.

Brush to sweep a face that reminisces bygones,
smartphone to illuminate organ spaces within.

Blues that fade into a solo tapping finger,
nights lost to a loss of words from searching.

Word Vomit Challenge 2018: 040218

Blood has a taste of metal, so perhaps we are

machines that need to love something to keep us

warm and red like evening sunsets that calm us after

a long day. Blue in the tropics mean too much heat like how

when skin turns blue we are cold and dying like the sea engulfing

our emotions and motivation to capture sunsets in the camera reel

fifteen minutes before our brain shuts down due to the lack of blood.

Blue skies can make us kneel when the sun finally has the weather to

punish us for staying indoors too much, to turn metal into furnaces which

boils our blood smelting love into hatred and cooking tears and sweat as twins.

Maybe this is why you now live somewhere colder – Not needing my coals; The summer stink.

Word Vomit Challenge 2018: 300118

Never really liked Apples, since most of what I had

were sour, and the taste of Father forcing me

to slice apples for an entire family. He told everyone to

take a slice before they did. If the family could be brought

together by a blood red fruit, surely the peeler that took a

chunk of my skin can tell the pain it took to my Father. I

gave up and ate a couple like Snow White did with hers,

juice running down my arms that I had to go to the bathroom

thrice each apple and I collapsed on the bed, still convinced

that Father was trying to poison me with his teachings.