An Ode to the Asshole Cat That Wouldn’t Leave the HDB Flat Someone Else Was Trying to Move Into

asscat.jpg

Stupid asshole cat.

Are you trying to fly again, my dear?
You’re brandishing the broomstick like a man on a mission,
Staring out at the boundless sky, where the lady in the moon
Is awaiting her replacement.

Shoot up the bedroom-
Bang, bang, bang
Scream out “IT’S ALWAYS ME LAH, MY FAULT LAH-“
I will still be here, always here.

You are dancing in the living room,
Stirring up the dust mice, shaking up the grout
I will chase them away, the rats and the roaches
Just for you.

I trip over the same spot every morning.
A little ledge before the kitchen,
Just before you drop.
The threshold gets me every time.

Slowly and shakily, shivering into a stop
I try to avoid the puddles on the floor,
They are deadly to you, your sightless eyes,
But I do not understand why.

I am afraid, sometimes.
The broom swishes unpleasantly, trapping tasty spiders
Before it crash-lands upon my back,
But I’m still here, and that’s okay, isn’t it?

You are the only home I’ve got left.
If you fly away, take me with you
If you dance a pas de deux, hold me closer to you
If you fall, I will pull you up as many times as it takes,

Just don’t leave me-
Please.
Don’t go, darling, don’t leave me.

I left a dead mouse
At the foot of your missing bed.

It’s the only one I’ve ever managed to catch.

#MeToo – On Sexual Assault

Performed at Spoke and Bird Open Mic, at the Artistry. Performance found here

Sec 2, pre-puberty. I was dressed in a cloak and cosplay, running around my school, asking kids if they would like to join the drama club. Alumnis, probably, older boys, definitely, surrounded my childish frame and asked if they could join the drama club with smug faces.

One boy put his arm around me, I am haunted by what his shirt had smelled of- Too much deodorant, too much danger. My first boyfriend would only be angry because they had touched his “girlfriend”, as if I belonged to him.

Continue reading “#MeToo – On Sexual Assault”

Dead To Me

Pictured: My Ball-Jointed doll, Mindy. 

Submitted on Day 26 of #SingPoWriMo2017

She shimmered under the moonlight, your fingertips brushed over her rivers and valleys, the dip and rise of her mountains, forests and hills. And you breathed hot air on her neck, straining yourself to fit your hands around all of her, trying to hold everything you wanted closer.

I like to think that she had died in your arms. It’s comforting, in a way, to know that she had disappeared together with my memory of you. I’d like to think of her self-destruction as the moment you took her into your arms.

Continue reading “Dead To Me”