My Innuendo


Something improper. Something un-called for. Something wicked, this way comes.

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Desperately, I've managed to clawed my way back to a reality I have so unsrcupulously neglected. I exhaled. I have come to terms with the fact that no amount of effort you put nor the extent of how you attempt to redeem yourself (or whichever comes first) can fully surmount the fact that sometimes, some things, are truly beyond you. All you can manage with is ultimately - yourself. Now I just need to find me again.

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Last night was another night filled with a cocktail (pun pun) of mishaps. A series of untimely events. A ten minute wait at a well known japanese eatery that spawned into a 45 minute hunger pang. (We should have known better.) All in the midst of an exchange of saliva droplets and rude words, we decided to settle for the seats outside.

Dinner had better be good. Which in turn, sparked another turn of events :

Guy Friend : "Eh, how come you don't want to take that seat inside?" (referring to a seat against a row of bouganvilleas/orchids/watever that acted as a divider)

Gal Friend : "Cos got the flower zhor teng there how to eat??!" (referring to a single bouquet of bouganvilleas/orchids/watever that was peering deliriously over. The cheeky thing. Confirm is want to see long kang.)

Me : "Come, I help you lah." (referring to a fool who in an act of chivalry (a.k.a. score points) proceeded to attempt to push the amorous bud to the other side of the row.)

Piak.

"Oops." (referring to the omnimous and disgusting snap of a plant stalk of bouganvilleas/orchids/watever and the exclaims of a flower murderer.)

At the end of it all, the friend decided to stay put. Wait people malign her for killing a plant just for leering down her neckline.

Dinner was good.

Last Serenade

Everyone talks about the agony of a heartache. The need to have a clear mind when you need it the most, to rationalise the outcome of the situation. You grasp at the thought when will this all end. When you will cease to carry out "suicidal" tendencies (like trying to smash your forehead on any flat plane available, or basically eat yourself to death.) and announciate the fact that it won't solve anything. When you clutch your heavy heart and moan for the pain to literally stop. (It hurts, really)

What can you do? Honestly.

You mope around your room, trying with every pan and scan to bligh the instances that flash before your mind at every single thing that has her written all over it, struggling to push it all away but somehow, you lack that courage to. You wish somebody was here to tell you what to do. You wish that somebody would be significant enough to make up your mind for you. You wish that somebody was her.

Then, you fall again. Knowing the possibilities almost equates to nought.

You told people that things happen for a reason. Never ask why it is what it is. Always move towards what is to be done from the moment the reason presents itself. It overshadows the possibility of having known that for a matter of fact, it was bound to happen.

Then the pain grips you. And you snap back into reality. And then you realise - she's never coming back.

On The Mend


I can't let go.

My hands are trembling as I type. If it means anything , I don't want to look fragile, truncated or misplaced because I know that's not the kind of guy you hope to see in me. I've been struggling to keep from shattering. I haven't spent the past few days and nights just feeling sorry or just disgesting the fact that I am an idiot. All I seek is solace and redemption.

Then, maybe it just wasn't enough.

But still, I want to prove to you that I can and will change.

You told me a hiatus would do us good. I try to comprehend. I take a step back. I try holding my breath. In time, perhaps with earnest, we might still be able to carry out our plans. Enough for now you said. Stubborn I may have been but thus far I have kept behind the line. But I will not budge nor will I fade away. I tread softly.

And I won't let go. I can't.