Empty Out Your Stomach


i waited all week for a letter that never came. i cooked my first meal in this empty apartment after lugging back five grocery sacks. i painted my nails violet, then strawberry, then black. i sliced my finger open while washing the dishes. i watched the moon from my balcony.

i felt something in my chest sink when i saw tokyo tower that morning.

but time passes. we keep walking. people are resilient. i used to think that it wasn’t right; that we were just pretending to be normal. now i realise that it’s the only thing keeping us alive.





A Camera Lens & Careful Days


borrowed from my diary, dated the 28th of December 2010




i had a dream last night.

we are sitting on a hotel bed, surrounded by people who are either tossing cheap vodka shots down their throat or attempting to abscond from the room for a quick smoke.

someone (probably PD) starts a noisy discussion on one night stands. he gently places his hands over my ears. i take a long sip from a paper cup filled with coke that has gone flat. under the covers, his legs are wrapped around mine.

what day is this?

i think… i think we’ve just finished our exams. everyone wanted to run away. this is where we ended up.

so why bring us here again?

i’m not sure.

there is a brief commotion at the foot of the bed because someone has stolen the last bottle of Jack Daniels.

let’s get some fresh air.

since it’s so cold at this late hour, the rose petals are delicately frosted. the stars are beautiful. in the distance, a car is disappearing into an unlit street. he lays out a sheet of discarded newspaper for us to sit down on.

why did you really bring us here?

in the morning, we will find the 100 dollar note that BB had folded into a heart for me, outside my room. he takes the bus home. when i am finally alone, i fall asleep for seventeen hours.

his hands are very warm. the garden is quiet. i wonder who else has sculpted a memory here.

something happened to you here, didn’t it?

so quiet.

this is where i fell in love.