Leaena's Dear Diary

Must be the monster writhing beside the tombstone. I hear scratches and screeches. I smell burning fear roasting in insecurities. It's a foggy midnight and the shadow is at her brightest. The darkness condenses inside the hole where the grave lies. F

On my grave, you can twirl. Dig the hole so deep that the hell can hear the shovel. An ebony coffin to reflect my darkened existence. Plant a rose on my grave, so that only a mad man can dance on it. Play the hymn and let the choirs celebrate on my f

I cannot bear it. I do not like them. They weep in a corner, abandon their needs, wallow in self-worth, and rarely grow the courage to love themself. When I sit with myself, I want to cut my skin and fly out of it. When I do not drown in what I consu

Like rhythm and blues, I want ripple in a deep dark ocean. May I know your depth? How hollow is your existence? Does it echo? Have you planted roots in your favourite colour? Have you wavered over night and day? Have you seen the crescent moon? Did y

My childhood was surrounded by pine trees. I still catch the scent of those winters when, atop a tiny hill beside my home, I collected corns for flames. As we smuggled the corns in a sack, the sunlight peaked through the gaps while the pines hid our

I want to mellow my red to flicker in yellow with tainted orange. I want my fire to only come when I have been dragged in a filth of another. I want to be a candle light fire rather than the flames swallowing the forest. To be kind and soft yet never

"The only constant thing is the ever changing heart of men," I heard it and buried it for years. I unearth words of change again. I wash my face with these words to remind my eyes that no strength can hold the time, no power can freeze a state, and n

I drank a fuchsia earth and it walked my tongue. Pulled my mouth ever so slyly to gobble her molded lump. I need a drug to destroy the lump in my throat. I need a rain to cleanse my gums, thatched with bitter truth. Need a vacuum to digest this mold

I still refuse to believe it. I still taste my dried mouth. Still remember denying reality.Like a resigned soldier in the battlefield. Like an abandoned sibling in domestic violence. We are the only one now.       Who shall fight for us now?

I am starting with an infected existence. Long long ago, I was poisoned by a fairytale. I reckon flowers are blooming in my head and the trees are dancing in my chest. The vines of happily-ever-after has still not released me from its clutch. My mind

I cannot fathom the depth of her dense sorrows. She drowned in a horror too dark for her sight. Her nightmare dragged her down to a dungeon she has not escaped. She has held onto herself for a light. She has scraped for a meal in the dark. She has ga

This...this is loneliness. It's when every sound blooms in agony. The cold seeps through the gaps and I vividly taste my heartbeat like a marred corpse. I question my skin and my mind shivers. I fear no one but myself. Yours even as I fear to be ***

How do I let go of your sleeve, so that I may not burn you? I still faintly smell your hair as I leaned on your shoulder when you carried me. Even now, I am that constant blubbering child, hugging you like I can keep you forever. Even now, I remember

I want to fall on a bed of flowers and hum to the sky. Feel the cold wind while it whispers. The town is too shabby for an old stray like my soul. I want to smell the earth sleeping under me. Feel the stem crumbled beneath me while the sun slumbers u

I will drink this life sober. I will be high on hopes and drunk on poems.  All randezvous with hurdles will be swallowed with angst.  All through winter, I will be addicted on the miscellaneous thoughts of existence.  Use substance of fiction to c