One less more

colorless, odorless, motionless, mindless


If only lines remain,

I could still draw you a silhouette


If only wind lingers,

I would trace the way you breathe


If only mind moves,

I would recall and relive moments of you


If only I were erased,

I could feel you were the one I slightly attached




Slugs bug my eye as they crawl on the trail.

Slimy texture glues to the smooth expanse.

A strong gust blows, their skin shiver and wail

to a point it all falls into a trance.


One of them jump to my face and fall off.

More come for my skin and stick all around.

Another wind arrives and makes me cough.

Faraway you look at me like a clown.


And so, I drop to the ground with the slugs,

lying hands and feet out as a starfish.

Blurry images of you give me hugs.

It feels like I have kept my dying wish.


Attach to me, dear, whatever you are,

I will ever be fiddling in your scar.

Crossed duos

My finger nails rust into dust.

Your burger emits crumbs so little.

We promise not to consume lust

as the love we form is all so brittle.

My hair thins as time wears a cloth

so grey that the skyline weeps it away.

Forget so as to remember the froth

we breathe underwater astray.

Your smile needs to be framed before

it freezes in our absence in memory.

You may not believe I hear you swore

every time it lasts more than a century.

Count and me and you would be awake.

I would be asleep till the end of the break.


                                Unwanted laughter spills out in unexpected times.
Unmatched destinies cross paths once in a while.
                                Unwonted qualities introduce themselves as mimes.
Unceasing affections refuse to travel anymore miles.

                                        Flip the unforeseen anxieties inside out.
Strip the reserved tenderness from curbs.
                                      Dip the concentrated senses into a drought.
Grip the unyielding fervor until it burps.


Crumpled papers 

Crumpled tissues 

Crumpled photos 

Bury themselves 

In a tin can 

In a rubbish bin 

In a refrigerator 

Ants are out 

Moths are out 

Cockroaches are out 

Crawling on faces 

Smudging makeups 

Wiping off expressions 

A glass of wine collapsed 

A box of candies spoiled 

A house of cards burned 

Wires twisted 

Books ripped 

Mirrors smashed 

Red prints on each wall 

Red margins on each tile 

Red liquor on each glass 

Consume the last oxygen 

In the atmosphere 

Gravity pulls them down 

Leaving me afloat 

On the ceiling 

On the attic 

On the rooftop 

Strands of hair 

Stood up 



Too easily 

For any to feel 

For any to sense 

For any to bring 

Such a weightless figure 






I return to it,

a place I am supposed to belong.

This time with him.

Every stroke against the current

reduces my body mass a bit.

I remove my spectacles

to be able to see the underworld




Passersby trapped into a cycle,

keep looping at the same spot.

Head tilted on the other side–

I breathe water,

welling into my eyes.

He is on the other side.


The conveyor belt is rotating

until I stop at the middle.

The sky eats black particles

and throws up lasers.

Droplets moisten my throat,

as the water down here

adds lead onto

my skin.


Wanting to disappear,

my face goes inside.

All the holes repel invaders.

Why could I not make

myself denser than

where I am now?

So I could sink,

sink at the bottom of it.

And sing

my favorite song.


Diligently, he is the same old self.

Snapshots of him going

backward and forward

retains my presence

and sanity.

So engaged that

I fade into the air.

Even thunder

takes over me

who is right over here.



I return to it.

I think it is where I belong.

I think.

I think until

my brain bursts.

But it still refuses to let me in.

So I let it go.

And maybe

should let him go


Little adult, little child


When I was a little girl,

mama put me in a silky pink dress.

I was the princess of the family.

Their glory.

When I am a little adult,

I remove everything and lay myself bare.

I am the mouse in the household.

Their shame.

When I was a little girl,

my hair was long.

I had chubby faces

which was used to cheer people up.

When I am a little adult,

I cut my own hair.

I have sharpened contours

which can only disgust people.

When I was a little girl,

papa carried me on his shoulder.

I would reach for the highest flower

and pick it for him to smell.

When I am a little adult,

boys carry me to the bedroom.

I would reach for the faintest lamp

and trace a smile on his back.

When I was a little girl,

me and brother shot nerf guns.

We splashed, swirled, swam

in the magnificent pool.

When I am a little adult,

brother would shoot me piercing glances.

We smack, whack, spank

louder than the kitchen sink.

When I was a little girl,

I was posed to take the best photo

from morning till night.

I thought I were once an immortal statue.

When I am a little adult,

I run naked in front of the mirror

from night to dawn.

I thought I were a beast gone wild.

When I was a little girl,

desserts were my companions

along with Teletubbies.

Every bit of sweetness linger in my very tooth.

When I am a little adult,

spitting is my enemy

along with binging.

The acid corrodes my throat like cigarettes.

When I was a little girl,

holding a spool, I flew kites

and spun dreams

from the many colors I had on my palette.

When I am a little adult,

holding a knife, I craved wrists

and shatter realms

from all the fantasies I have jotted down.

When I was a little girl,

they called me little miss sunshine.

I radiated with joy,

beamed with laughter.

When I am a little adult,

they call me a troubled thunderstorm.

I break down with tears,

scream with hysteria.

When I was a little girl,

I was not afraid.

Things happened, good or bad,

I forgot and went on skipping ropes.

When I am a little adult,

I am so afraid.

Everything has happened, good and bad,

I caught each one of them, glued to the past.

When I was a little girl,

I was a little adult;

When I am a little adult,

I am a little girl.