weight.

warmth and radiation
5 dots and a line
resting there, you send a code
of casual care and substitutes;
i feel the pressure points
and interpret with another sender in mind.

of 2nd naans and 4pm waffles

it has come. you are finally asking the question that i guessed you would one day ask.

inherent in the seed is the plant, and perhaps, inherent in the decision you made is this doubt. because much as we would like to believe in the positive adage of "live life to the fullest", our finite, self-seeking minds are ultimately incapable of responding responsibly to such an ethos. adopting such an attitude, we would take it to be a licence for self-satiation, enter all things with "carpe diem" in mind, and turn to different degrees of hedonism. there would be no restraint, only the pursuit of plenitude and an engulfing of all possible experiences.

and with no restraint there can be no true happiness.

i wish i could quote you matt 16:25. i wish i could make you see that in seeking happiness from extremes, you have made yourself unhappier. you are gorging and deriving flashes of thrills, but it is food that gnaws when it enters you. and you know it, but you can't bring yourself to say it. and i am held back by all sorts of things, but i wish i could say it straight to you, and pull you out of all this cotton-candy mess.

you are a kid who has eaten too many chocolate cakes.



"vomit it out. you'll feel better."

贤妻良母

to be, or not to be: that is the question:
whether 'tis nobler to be a domesticated rabbit,
or to take arms 'gainst the 'pression of patriarchy,
and by opposing make Plaths of self.

it was acheful to see you cry, and to hear all your stories of silence. i could never have your courage to pour out my feelings thus before a group, but perhaps you have not that courage too. perhaps it is pain that motivates that pouring, an aching for sympathy, for affirmation, for the fellowship of womanhood that can alone ease the stings and bring back your belief in your beauty.

all women long to be made to feel beautiful. yet the Lillas and Lilla-worshippers of the world prevent most of us from ever having that need fulfilled. dears, we are not Lilla and never will be. and perhaps we will say that we never wish to be. but in your voices and in my own silence, we all know that we long to be called beautiful, to be loved by a man and to be able to be a woman for the man we love.

what is woman? what are these names surrounding us, these qualities demanded of us? woman, thy name is housework. woman, thy name is docility. woman, thy name is carer of children and comforter of husband. woman, thy name is servitude. woman, you are slapped and stepped over. woman, you are to be quiet and listen. woman, you are to cook and wash and clean and wipe. woman, you are God's gift to man, master of the world.

woman, thy name is heartbreak.

years later, if we meet again one day, perhaps with our names erased and with lives pulled out from us, i wish to hear what we have to say. i play our faces in my mind but i cannot put voices to the lips. it is a conversation to come, and i wait for it. i wait to look into eyes, to hear the tightness and lightness of voices, to cry again with all of you over the silences of our lives. or maybe we won't cry, maybe we won't meet. but each time those questions arise, i will think of you, and i will love your beauty that finds little love in this world.


silence, thy name is woman.