A naked intent unto god

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I woke up this morning & chose war – the ash fell on my arm & winked like an emissary of cancer – many passwords died with the deceased – that sharp arcing bright pain in my chest reminds me I am still eligible for subsidy – in many ways it is most absurd we do not just continue living – sorry I have no colours darker than this shade of maroon – now that you mention it I last saw this shade of gold on two twinks in body paint fucking – isn’t it crazy what we find erotic you said to me with bits of stale peanut between your teeth – in 1599 the Jivaro tribe of Ecuador rose up against a Spanish governor who taxed the gold trade too heavily for their liking – they poured molten gold down his throat until his bowels burst – we suggest that the development of steam with increasing pressure might result in both heat induced and mechanical damage to distal organs, possibly leading to over inflation and rupture of these organs – as we stood by the blaze we were convinced it would consume us too & send us to the mountains of gold & silver – Ah P & Ah Q dance their last demented fugue – a fragment of the Old Testament in a film we fell asleep to this afternoon – their silver and their gold shall not be able to deliver them in the day of the wrath of the Lord – why did you think this would fill the howling void of your evening – the flames lick the groove of my fraying self – my ego proves entirely flammable – the forest fills with the shrieks of unconsoled mynahs – this scrap I commit to the fire & deem more useful in another world than this splintering one

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Where there is chaos let us make clarity – I said to my team as I wept & drooled into the bloodiest mary – as I slept a childhood memory – grandpa & I taking 64 from & back to the same bus terminal – at concessionary fares we entertained ourselves for an afternoon – amount of displacement: zero – that way I learnt there is beauty in frustrating the intended purpose of things – recently I learnt that to build the military base Diego Garcia the British expelled the native population of the Chagos archipelago – in an memo an official declared there will be no indigenous population except seagulls who have not yet got a Committee – I am thinking many other things do not have committees – thirty-year olds into piss play do not have committees – hawkers selling chee cheong fun do not have committees – people suffering from back acne do not have committees – those who go around carrying their own gnawing hearts of darkness do not have committees – the dead generally do not have committees – after the news of grandpa’s death I phoned my mum & we both wept – I was standing by a bus stop & a gleaming 64 came to a stop – I did not board it — despite my sharp desire to do so – you know recently the fantasies of escape are becoming more & more persistent – I find myself wanting to let my ego dissolve like ice in an ocean of water – to break myself out of this intricate constellation of known pleasures & determinate waypoints – I was half-afraid I’d find him on that 64 – now I am watching the same video of delicious cheeseburgers in NYC (never been) the 34th time – the presenters are effortlessly effervescent – I hear myself saying – they were so terribly young – they were so terribly alive

These poems are inspired by the short stories of Daryl Qilin Yam.

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