poem: the new black written: 9:07 p.m. on Sunday, May. 15, 2005
The New Black
khaki is the new black.
that is only so when you stop wearing it when you take it off when you never put it on again.
the pleats are rather fashionable, aren�t they? even the dull greyness of the walls seem warm and friendly now.
but you hated them when you were surrounded by them; you felt like you were suffocating; smothered; drowning in grey and soot and a severe lack of light and how �pseudo-fashionable� those silly pleats were! not to mention � how hilariously ironic was the fact that Deltas wore khaki in Huxley�s Brave New World!
you regret it now, don�t you? isn�t this just nice then! you only appreciate what you�ve always had until you�ve lost it forever.
cutting economics lectures writing your own obituaries in maths classes not studying with your friends at the study benches complaining querulously about canteen food taking ten-minute toilet breaks during gp falling deeply in love with Literature�
the lump in your throat reveals so much it reveals your heart for what it truly is: it�s not as black as you�d imagined.
it�s only torn out of your ribcage and left for the flies to devour
because that�s the price of letting go without ever holding on tight.
12.53 a.m. April 6, 2005.
For the times spent at Jurong Junior College that went by unappreciated.