Pictured above: My Father, who kept loving me when I forgot to love him.
Performed at the Foodrama Poetry Slam 2017, Organised by Word Forward, at Blu Jaz Cafè.
My dad never understood why I hated eating kueh. I spent 7 years forcing kuehs down my throat, long since learning that resistance was futile.
I used to run to my dad for a hug the moment he got home. My dad called me a little “Tau sah piah”, because those were my favourite words for a while.
I wonder what happened to those years. I haven’t eaten kueh in a long time.
Continue reading “A Pocket Full of Kueh”
– Performed at the Mad Bad Sad Glad Love Poetry Slam, organised by Word Forward Singapore. My performance can be found on YouTube here.
Last night I deleted his number from my phone. I erased all traces of his existence from my gallery, cleaned out the remnants of memory still stuck between other relevant memories, like left over food caught in teeth.
Continue reading “Ghost Town”
Picture was taken from the inside of his house
I remember the bed shaking, trembling with the sounds of a fight. I remember how the walls exploded, my fists bleeding from having been clenched too tight. I held back, my tongue a blunt knife awaiting the sharpening stone.
Continue reading “From His Perspective – Broken”
just so you know, i wasn’t always this way.
words are dropping from my fingertips,
so i broke the frozen blood from my hands.
Continue reading “Just So You Know”
She’s beautiful. She had always been beautiful. I wonder if she knew that.
I met a girl when I was 14, she had glass for eyes and a post-it smile. Every day I sat across from her in the canteen and watch her stomach turn over and over as her friends surrounded her with rejected love and support.
Continue reading “Poem For The Broken”
There’s Something That You Should Know
Before we begin I’d like to tell you all that I am transgender. I knew I was male ever since I was fifteen and I know that seems a little young, a little bit too soon to know for sure that this isn’t a phase but I could also say that about everyone in this room, so. You’re never too young to know what you prefer to be called.
Continue reading “Before We Begin”
So you breathe and you live and you eat and you sleep and you wake up and you live and you eat and you sleep but are you really, really alive?
Inspired by Iain S. Thomas, “I Wrote This For You”