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I'm so postmodern that I just don't talk anymore ( Read more... )

someone left a fat outline of a silver heart on my car window. my car; rust flecked and paint peeled, courting the love of spray-can misfits with its dilapidated charm! -- dear heart, circle quaint and pin a needle to it, through and bloody through ( Read more... )

I search your profile ( Read more... )

From the beginning, starting with the girls at school, and the teachers in particular, I have looked at women in shops, on the street, in the bus, at parties, and wondered what it would be like to be with them, and what pleasures we might kindle. At school I would toss my pencil under the teacher’s desk in order to crawl underneath and examine her ( Read more... )

death on the staircase.

question: any reason why singaporean teevee personalities prefer to use the american accent instead of the good ole british one? i mean, wasnt raffles english?

oh my, where is the respect.

give me enough doubts and i'll have them strung up snug, like a noose about my neck.

sometimes, when the guilt gnaws like an old injured limb might, on a cold damp day, i am reminded of how undeserving i am to be trusted with love.