Oh so easy
To just let go To let it all just slip away,
My best laid plans, the smiles unsmiled
The loose ends lost, unravelling the inner me
When nothing in particular moves into view
And no one left around me can see
How I already can no longer really be
And my heart of hearts grows weary
Of the never having quite arrived,
Not even having departed
Promising prodigy, potentially
Too tarnished, set off already broken,
Cracked through the core
Yet ever so thankful
To have been here at all
For that superb distorted glimpse
Of life, before I’m due to fall
By that wayside
All along, there was only one
Who ever knew me
And now no other one could ever know
How easy, so very easy
It is to just let go.
A ghost, a shell A left over half-memory of what – on earth – I might have been.
Burning bridges while I stride, Leaving those around me, pre-emptive strikes.
Lest they, like me, find out too soon Once again, a wager lost.
Trust placed in me – a darkened horse. What crazy odds..
Could’ve stayed the course?
A dismal daytime dream, a ‘sort of never really knew him.’ And stranger still, as all the while, he knew no bounds,
Opened as a riptide, welcoming all and sundry into that madhouse glass heart of his, Fatal shore indeed…
Yet no one seemed to truly see the battle at the heart of me;
To yet remain and thwart the tide of Fate, bloody Loki, Fortuna herself even?
The game seems rigged.
So many cards still stacked by hands, I no longer trust or even know.
Am tired. Of me, of all there is tonight.
Can’t turn around, the dye seems cast – and still I cannot breathe. No foothold ledge, no branch to clasp.
When tomorrow’s unborn dawn, slips already from my grasp.
Don’t Fit in Between Sunrise and Sunset
I don’t fit in between the sunrise and sunset
I can’t really call it living
It’s more a case of saying
One more day, okay
One more day
You can’t really call it living,
Going round in circles
Growing smaller day by day
And the working girls,
Lord, please bless them,
Every one of them
They may raise a smile
If nothing else
But you can’t really call it living
More a case of every day
Saying, okay one more day
And the hotel doormen, so agreeable,
Useful, helpful – they don’t envy me
Amid the knowing smiles, the little winks
They know what they go home to
You can’t really call it living
More a case of saying
One more day, okay
And my dearest one, I am so sorry
I could not stop the Daimon in me
From tearing down that fragile thing we built
I am so sorry, I hope you’ll be okay
But you can’t really call this living
More a case of saying every day
Okay, one more day.
(Kuala Lumpur, 2019)
At Ease in the Company of Ghosts
I walk alone once more, I find,
That no one dares come near
Reminders of their gazes once,
Replete, as now, with fear.
a hauntedness, an ill at ease
a who the Hell is that?