Gaping heart

A tribute to my cousin, Chua Guo Wei (1993-2015).

When men of men ask of space

They talk the stars of stars that glow and shine

No. Space is where he used to place

Where now I cry, I weep myself blind

Where his smell still lingers on the sheets

Where his ghost still haunts my dreams alone

Where my regrets redden, blazes and heats

'Cause space is a cruel, gaping black hole

Thus with the devil, I’d readily sell

My soul and life and material things

For a ticket to the fires of hell

As Saint Peter sounds the judgement ring

If for a minute, you may rise

And watch me breathe my final sigh.

Agnes Lee

Topic: Space (day 10)

4 cups of coffee too much

You've been through this before. A new deadline, a new challenge. It doesn't faze you. Not anymore.

When the boss says that the deadline's been extended, you rejoice internally and think: great. I don't have to start on this til next week. A tiny voice tries to intervene, pesky thing. But you're confident of your abilities. My bullshit's never failed me before. Why worry now?

But the work starts to pile up and the page remains blissfully blank as it was five days ago. The late nights start turning into later days, shorter tempers; and your heart starts doing strange palpitations in your chest. Maybe that last cup of coffee wasn't such a good idea. Coffee makes you antsy! You can't work like that, damnit!

The tiny voice is back. sure it remarks drily, keep telling yourself that.

You wonder why you keep putting yourself through this.

-WenZhen