Who am I kidding, this is it.


Chinese Takeaway


A rose blooms at my smile.

Flashes of light flood the streets.

A blind painter’s brushstrokes sweep the canvas,


Creating another new masterpiece,

things normal people cannot even reproduce.


What are those little thingamajigs?

Oh right, it’s a camera.


A snapshot,

a click,


A moment in time captured,

history on a piece of film.


Alas, this will not do. This will not do at all.

It’s blur, unclear,

as if the particles are bleeding ink all over.

Is that a tentacle?

Oh, it’s a hand?


Without those palm sized pieces of paper,

I can still remember.

The thoughts,



Something even a camera cannot even capture.


Yes I am angry. Furious even, that the photographs turned out this way. I suppose, when we win something, we have to lose something in the process.

Ps. I think I did a great job thinking of the title of this poem, it’s so fitting!



Spiraling downward. Free fall,

To what it was. Dust, to dust.

Back to the state of nothing.

My back against the corner.

Its nice.

Grandfather’s hands stop moving.

Smiles at me, like a picture.

All just a facade. All lies.

Red gold on the floor. Lights fade.


All beginnings have an end,

No use trying to mend.

Everything will fade away,

Into a grainy shade of gray.



Goal #2

#2: Thou will learn how to cook if thou does not want to survive on Chinese food for the rest of your life.

Don’t get me wrong. Its not that I really hate Chinese cuisine, hate is too strong of a word. I merely dislike Chinese food. Why? Well, first of, the taste. I mean, who are we kidding, its tastes just like what you get when you take a nuclear bomb and bomb the whole continent. That’s right, it tastes like nothing. I’ve thought of three different reasons as to why I’m feeling this sudden animosity against Chinese food.

  1. Its just my taste buds.
  2. Its the limited amount of Chinese cuisine that I’ve been exposed to.
  3. My grandmother is too awesome a chef that I’ve gotten used to the taste and now my taste palette simply longs for better tasting food.

On a side note, does anyone know how to get rid of blackheads? 😦

Brush Strokes

Just like a blank canvas,

I’ll pick up the paintbrush.

Look to the heavens,

I’ll draw you so the night sky can be filled.

The stars will be your eyes

and I’ll connect the dots like child’s play.

You are my star,

and I’m your number one fan.


Parallel Lines That Meet

Hold out my gift to you,

Hands trembling, heart pounding.


This, this is for you.

Like a fool, I stutter.


Careful nimble fingers,

Tear open the giftwrap.

Time comes to a halting,

The moment of truth.


There is nothing, she said.

But there is, look closer.


Peered into emptiness,

Just an empty white box.

Empty, desolate, clean.

Nothing to give, to please.


There is something, my heart.

Said I wholeheartedly.

Know that it beats only

For you.

The greatest gift to give,

To you.


Take it


Your soft smile, your embrace

Tugging at my heartstrings,

Playing our last swan song

Before the curtains close.