ripping the night to shreds

as I tear through the celestial membrane
the goodness of it singes my tongue;
it touches the lump in my throat: a tumour
of tears I am unable to shed, and
hisses, dissolving what is left of my words

no longer human,
I howl at the full moon
ripping the night to shreds:
let the bitter shades of my soul
taint the picturesque sky
and those who cry mercy with blood
on their hands
can die.



In darkness and vacuum,
every breath you draw
substantiates the truth
that you tell; time drones
away with every heartbeat,
a clock you cannot defeat;
perhaps, only gravity
can save you now
only gravity
can liberate you
stop you from spinning
out of control
stop you from spinning
out of reach and
stop, stop you
from spinning
of this


I know the likes of you

your heart runs on human misery

pumps out adrenaline black as your soul

handing out scars like a pamphlet

tears like jelly-beans

blood like hello’s and good-bye’s

I know the likes of you

could taste you like a bad fruit

your reputation rolling on my tongue with a serpentine hiss

it burns to say your name

you’re not welcome here

not now, not ever

I know the likes of you

you’ll never quit until you’r half-dead and

half-sorry for what you’ve done


I know the likes of you


Dedicated to Percy Whetmore, from The Green Mile. Amazing novel + movie, by the way. I didn’t know Stephen King wrote the original serial novel. I just finished reading it and while getting through the story, I just wanted to beat the crap out of Percy. He’s such a vicious coward. And a bully. Oh yes he is, and he got what he deserved…

what laughter is made of


can no longer understand what a laugh is–

so dense and intricate

with meanings, it is impossible

to tell what it contains:

knives, marshmallows, acid, feathers and/or thorns.

Make one mistake and

you may end up chocking

for breath

on the floor, gurgling






Untitled (a dark romantic tale)

He found a bloody eclipse in her eyes,

dark orbs rimmed with crimson,

shining secrets beautifully and wonderfully sordid

that whispered of years and centuries and eons of things

beyond his existence, memories thick

enough to smother his soul. Gradually

he became lost, yet again,

inside the labyrinth of an impossible love,

hunted by the inscrutable darling of the night,

a diabolical creature so tender, so true,

so hard to touch and so beautiful. She danced

to the rhythm of his violent heartbeat,

consuming the scent of his terror

through her monstrous nostrils and

every time as he tried to rationalize desperately

their unorthodox romance, she would

fade into the shadows whence she came—

her smile branded, tattooed upon his flesh—

and vanish out of his reach.

I had a brief gothic phase for about one week or so, during which I once again fell in love with vampires. This is the product of my short-lived fervour. This reminds me of high school…I was completely gothic-minded and wrote about vampires, angels and demons all the time. I remember my creative writing teacher refusing to publish my poem about demon conjuring into the school anthology haha. I had to switch it with another poem that wasn’t blatantly evil. Heh heh heh heh heh.

Loki: The God of Mischief

Perfection through absolution:

Halved, with a profound and indispensable jealousy.

An insufferable displacement. From chaos, he

shall give birth to himself, stain his princely hands

with the blood of a condescending illusion constituted

of destruction, lost lives and scorched waste. His

own personal manifestation of reality, of unreality,

a dense web of lies, an estranged dimension of suspended

pain and diabolical joy. He lives in an inescapable paradox,

the only space for his existence; an exit and a dead end;

a loveless labyrinth; a complex, wretched  architecture built

upon the darkness of his soul.

This is the Loki from the recent Marvel’s movie, Thor. I’m having a helpless crush on him, haha. And he’s such a fascinating villain to write about (and to adore hehe). He’s going to appear as the primary villain in next year’s Avengers movie, which I am seriously looking forward to. I just hope that the movie will be epic, because it has such a great character set: Loki, Thor, Captain America, Iron Man, Hulk, Black Widow, Hawkeye. What could go wrong, really? They’re the superheroes of our time. I just hope it won’t be ruined by a shitty plot, like Captain America, which I thought had great potential after seeing the trailer.

Anyway. I’m so busy these days *sob* I have to steal time to write my poetry. I make myself seem like a thief. But truly it’s my midterms and papers that are stealing my pleasures from me…just wait until I finish university. Ha! Then I’m going to be a full-time couch-potato for a year, just to make up all the time in which I didn’t slack off properly. Mwahahahahahaha.

City of Lost Angels

 They perch on the malleable architecture

of abducted dreams, agreeably dying, as

their faded wings tremoured against

colossal winds and unconquerable odds.

In great trepidation, they watch the phantoms of

intractable yesterdays populate

the world of what-might-have-been’s and

weep incessantly for their deliberate silence

that has now grown deeper, deep enough

to castigate their tarnished souls with

an inexplicable dark magic, but not yet

deep enough to wake them from their

own personal nightmares. They fear

to realize what they have come to realize,

and they shall never admit that fear.

They have forgotten how to choose

for themselves in their violent attempts to

choose for others. They have unlearned

their abilities to look for answers within.

Over the inane centuries of

misplaced passions and self-generated

righteousness—all properly

cleansed, modified and justified—the

Lost Angels know not who they are,

who they had once been, or who they

will become, for the Lost Angles know

just one thing and one thing only

and that is what they think they want.