I draw inspiration from life experiences as I mature emotionally and psychologically. I’m always trying to send a message through my writing, which encompasses beliefs I hold dear. When I run dry of ideas, music and books are my best medicine. I like lyrics that are succinct and deep - I usually take one line and spin a short story from there. One of the reasons I love Murakami is because what & how he writes allows readers to transcend the reality that we only know of. (of course he is not the only writer who can achieve this but as his metaphysical fiction is most easily accessible and er, ‘tame’ as compared to eg. Edgar, he makes a good eg.) It is story-telling like his that inspires and encourages me all the time to be socially conscious in my writing and challenge what people are usually afraid of confronting. Hence, my writing is sometimes criticized as “dark” or “disturbing” but unnerving readers, leaving an imprint such that it lingers, is precisely what I am going for.
(sorry, I wrote a lot haha but it’s been awhile since I received a qn. So, thanks for asking.)
call this anything you want - poetry without form or lyrics without music - I’m going to be doing quite a lot of these random stanzas. I’d like to imagine…it’s a rap.
it was too late when I realised
you were gone without saying a goodbye
robbed of my fantasy, grounded it left me
swimming in pools of misery, punctured by reality
this love between you and I
what we shared once was so divine
I admit I was too blind, I never knew it when you were mine
now I’m begging on my knees, this a sight of me is that’s on repeat
my pride I threw at the bin, not unimportant, it’s you I need
you can laugh at me, a fool in love I must seem
but if it gives me another day with you, anything you say I’ll do
black and white is bleeding from my eyes
I’m sinking all the time, drowning in these crazy tides
memories of what we had, fading into distant regrets
on sleepless nights without you beside
I’m always praying that you’ll be back
a beautiful angel with her heart intact
to take me back, says our lover’s pact.
I really don’t know why I turned up for work. My head hurts and my eyes are swollen. I look like a pubescent teenager going through some untimely break up with her boyfriend…It’s embarrassing. Alright, I admit. Yes, I did cry. A lot and very, very hard. But it wasn’t over a lover’s spat/breakup. Somebody hurt me real bad last night. Words…how they slice through the air as invisible knives. And the worst part about spiteful words? They don’t just cut into you and disappear or drop off. They remain right smack in the middle of your chest for god knows how long. Then we have to walk around with these invisible mother f*ckers sticking out, reminding us of gaping wounds we might never get to fill up again. I hate these mother f*ckers. I hate that just because I’m a female, walking around with sh*t swollen eyes the next morning means my boyfriend cheated on me.
I hate that I can’t become invisible.
To commemorate the revival of wallpoppy.tumblr, I’ll leave this here:
They say no matter how far you try to run, there will always be people you can never outrun.
They cling to your distorted shadows in tiny bits and pieces – parasites of our love stories. Some people say goodbye but they never actually leave for good. They are the Hansels and Gretels. And in their wake, they will leave a trail of bittersweet breadcrumbs. We never realise this, but we always end up picking up the pieces, unknowingly, leading ourselves right back to them. Some think it’s masochistic, others say it’s plain stupid. But I think I know the real reason we keep crawling back, back to the people who have ripped a hole in us. You see, we aren’t just returning to them.
We are returning home.
Because home is where the heart is.
Because long ago, we fell so intensely in love that we surrendered ourselves.
Because for a moment there, we actually believed in forever.
(source: The wallpoppy)
