In Stress

I can’t be stressed: I give too much

of a damn for the condemned,

demand too much for a dame

whose father told her to shut her trap.

But her mother told her to build a damn

for those tears and cut the crap.

Thoughts messier than tree’s roots, sappier

than a politician’s toots. I am happier

than the rich men. Greet the day, growing greyer

with teeth borned to be gritted, brows

made to knitted.

“Daddy didn’t teach ya how to smile?” He called.

I sneered, I don’t need to smile, I smite.

I am no damsel in distress.


Inspired by finals stresses and caffeine.



I am spitting words on paper bags, they beg

For change.

I have no power but words and phrases, right now, maybe only coins, some cents.

I give, the clatter of lonely quarters against plastic containers.

She came, dropping bills by carelessness, no shame.

Itching about her problems, void of friends or senses as she see them.

“Why can’t they look for a job?”

Ah, a modern Marie Antoinette, a marionette

Of Chinese parents who berate those born without a pair of golden chopsticks shoved in between their fat lips.

“You are making us look bad.”

Some of us have to stick for ourselves, and her words will get her head chopped off from her chubby neck.

But I am no Robespierre, before I shoot myself in the jaw, I’ll write,

Capture how wrong it is to see a squirrel and smile

While deeming men deprived of dignity and home vermin, vile

Is the one who defile characters and stories,

profiles waiting for change.

Alley of College Life

You’ll be taking daily abuses.

They counting stars, but you tracing bruises.

You see how the rich kids cruises

Down their boulevard of life while you got

Your dark alley to climb


Up the valley of death, though no sin to confess

Through these words to digress, digest the pests

Of angst and thanks, collide.

You heard an accolade accumulated to last, of voices and choices you don’t regret.

So you come before Him, naked, shaken

and forsaking the notions, grammar-buried emotions to function

At this junction of life, riddled by examinations.

The only thing not examined was the time, heart, soul, the moment.

A simple panick, a crumpled nick of time, and you’re gone

Stumbling in the alley towards light.

What is this blight?

Fool, again

I can’t believe my own stupidity.

The propensity to forget and sail on, for wounds to heal and not scar.

Reach far and fall short, flat on the ground as false hopes of one too many hangouts wove a tapestry of a narrative that turns out to only be a rug ripped out from under my feet.

Face defeat, love is not my strong suit.

My wrongs doomed me to simply imagine, smile and pretend that I was never involved in the first place.

Paper Bag


of them 

sat down 

next to me,


They are forgetful of where my

eyes are, I tried to

remind them but they forgot my 

eyes so couldn’t see my


At least stop dropping your pen. Themore you reach across the floor and brushed my

legs, the further you

get from my regards. I contemplated

kicking. Contemplated.

Today is different. I am still here

early, yes, and one of them

picked the seat next to mine out of the

rows of empty seats and forgot I

can see, AGAIN. I took out a paper bag

I stole from the cafe.

No, though I am disgusted I love my gut

enough to not throw up and scald my tongue with acid.

I tore the mouth of the bag, you stopped looking below my eyes, noticed that I noticed, left.

The only puke this bag will

hold is my word vomit.

Again and again and again and again.