jeily

Hong Kong

tomorrow never came

Published Work

and life and life and life

i.
i am naked;
my skin pinned back,
a scalpel running down my spine.
lookatme
all of me.
in its bloody gory deadly messy glory.
there’s the heart,
veins and arteries fighting for space and blood, twisting round each other like snakes in a tussle.
there are the lungs,
inflating and deflating like a sad party balloon.
my bronchioles are sticky with tar and nicotine:
the product of years of failed escapism.

don’t put your hand there.
don’t grab at my skin, pull at it like a loom.
don’t burrow your hand into me like it’s all yours.

stop!
the bruises are already forming.



you don’t stop.

ii.
the man at the bus stop stares. at me. and i look away.
"aren't you pretty?"
"no"
it's not a lie. but i don't say it because it's the truth. i say it because i need him to stop looking.

god, i feel violated.

iii.
the earth is cool today.
rain fell...

Love After Love

satisfaction is more than you

And I sweep the picture frames off the walls,
off the shelves,
off everything.
Shards of glass litter the floor, glittering like the kaleidoscope you gave me on the first date.
I've torn your face into a million tiny pieces,
to be flushed down the toilet and into the sea,
where you can be food for the fishes and shitted right back out again.
And I'm heaving,
panting from this effort of removing you.
It's difficult,
because this banister is one your hands have touched.
This dresser once held your jacket.
This bathroom was filled with your cologne.
I'm hurt, I can see.
My hands,
bleeding like the river Nile.
Who cares?
I'm being washed anew.
So I get up,
clean my wounds.
Bandage them with the new plasters in the cabinet.
And I sit on the couch,
a mug of tea in my hands as I watch the television.

my oh my don't you wish it were different #kickoff

    You stand in front of the lake.

    It's unnatural, with a liquid too shiny and clear to be water. When you lean over, ever so slightly, your reflection doesn't stare back down at you. Instead, you stare into the lives of strangers, of people who have loved and are loved, of children and elderly and families and friends.

    Some of them are smiling, some are crying. Some are staring into space with nothing on their faces. Others are doing the mundane; listening to music, riding the bus, doing their homework.

    You wish you didn't have to do this, you really do. Because when you stare at a shard of glass, the same mortal eyes stare back at you. The same mortal eyes everyone in the lake has. The same proportions, the same number of limbs, eyes, mouths, ears, everything. You look exactly like them, and although you've never met anyone like them,...

i am sorry

it was unfair of me, now that i look back.
to burden you with my grievances, expecting you to not mind.
but you accepted it all; no qualms, no complaints, no shuddering of the bones that slip beneath your skin.
i was stupid- i am stupid. i've never been one for words or actions or anything whereas you have been one for everything.
how i wish i could take it all back. all i said. all i did.
because when i reached inside of you,
hand slipping through skin muscle bone fat
i saw how your rib cage was snapped, how bruises bloomed on the inside of your thighs, how your heart barely beat,
with your throat filled with sour bile.
and yet you bit that pink, pink tongue and swallowed down the blood that rose up within you.
all this time, i had thought you were more than i was. less human, more something else. more powerful, more angelic,...

romantic woes with the neighbourhood warlock (#magicrealism)

    Penelope sprawled on Tro's lap, her head in his lap as her arms splayed out. Tro's own hand was resting on her head, wisps of a purple spell (he liked to colour-code his spells; purple meant emotion) emanating from his palm into her head of dark hair.

    The tears on Penelope's cheeks had long-dried, visible even under the midnight sky, but the hiccups from her cries remained, interrupting her speech every once in a while. Felix nodded as she talked, continuing to murmur the spell under his breath as she did.

    "I just don't understand," Penelope said, her voice quiet but frustrated. "Why do I bother at all? If it's always going to be one-sided or unrequited or stupid? Why do I keep putting energy into stuff like this? It never works out."

    "You've never been particularly lucky with relationships," Tro murmured, closing his hand into a fist. The purple spell dissipated...

i don't belong here and you know it-- but you'll make me belong

    You awake in a desert.

    It is barren, strewn with dying cacti. The only living thing seems to be the sky above you, pulsing faintly. It spits out ashy grey clouds one after another and you can feel its eyes on you, watching you from afar.

    Sand billows around your ankles with every gust of wind. It's coarse, much coarser than it should be, but you don't feel it as you begin to walk.

    Have you ever felt like this? This lost? This forgotten? You've become one of them. The process has started. Before you know it, you'll be a grain of sand in this world, muddled up with everyone else who ever walked a path across this terrain. Before you know it, you'll be watching someone else appear in the same spot you did, and you'll be guiding them to where you are going now.

    One of them appears....

My December Competition 2019

one day in december

    "Do you want some?"

    My friend holds out the cup of hot chocolate she bought from the school cafe, eyes wide underneath the wool beanie she's wearing. I nod, and she holds it out to me, letting me take a sip of the hot chocolatey goodness. It slips down my throat smoothly, leaving behind a bitter sweet twang.

    We're pressed against each other, huddled up in the midst of Hong Kong winter, sitting at the tables of the school's outdoor seating area. Somewhere down below, on the communal piano, someone tinkers out a simple rendition of Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer, which ends with a crash of keys and boisterous laughter. My friends are all flushed bright red from the cold, looking sunburnt in the wrong season. One picks up her phone, asking which Christmas song we want her to play.

    And it's moments like this, when we're all cuddling for warmth...

jupiter's girl

you stood on jupiter's moons, playing hopscotch over his affairs and lovers. i watched you from a distance, sitting on my own white space rock, admiring the way you looked underneath the constellations.

i remember watching you, as you laid down on all the moons, looking up at the black above us. you picked up a star from the corner of your vision, and laid it in your palm. it was from the planet that rains diamonds, wasn't it? you took its star, but i saw it smiling when you did. who wouldn’t?

i know you came from andromeda, not that far away, but somehow, you look like you were born of all the beauty that exists in this universe. i'm not surprised jupiter loved you the minute you entered the milky way and strengthened his orbit to get you closer to us. we were fighting against all the other solar systems in the galaxy that day, because they all...

My December Competition 2019

one day in december

    "Do you want some?"

    My friend holds out the cup of hot chocolate she bought from the school cafe, eyes wide underneath the wool beanie she's wearing. The drink is still steaming hot; I can see the smoke rise from the tab she's cracked open to drink out of. I nod, and she hands it to me, allowing me to take a sip of the sweet, chocolatey goodness. Granted, it's not the best hot chocolate I've ever had, but it's enough to make my chest glow with warmth.

    We're pressed against each other, huddled up in the midst of Hong Kong winter, sitting at the tables of the school's outdoor seating area. The rest of our friends are crowding the rest of the table and we giggle at the sights of each other, because we're wrapped in jackets so thick that we look like waddling snowmen. Our noses and cheeks are flushed with red...

dancing in my head

I want to believe the universe is beautiful.

I want to believe that when two white dwarfs touch, they explode in a flurry of lights and colours, illuminating the empty space between them and the other planets with pleasantries. That they embrace each other as they self-destruct, because they've come to the end and they know it, and they welcome it.

I want to believe that utopia exists somewhere, and not one that is generated through materialism and false hopes. I want to believe that at one point in our timeline (maybe before, maybe later) that people are happy and loneliness is a thing of the past, that fear and terrors are overcome with the gentle coaxing of your peers, and children who are afraid of the dark come to see that it's not a bad thing at all because sometimes the world is prettier when shadows don't exist.

And I want to believe that we mean more than simple...

beautiful people #GOrwell1

And your smile matches no other.
It's the sun reincarnated
into this huddle of human.

And your smile matches no other,
when you hurl words at me.
They make my heart warm,
            in a good or bad way?

And your smile matches no other.
When you whisper sweet nothings,
in the dead of night,
when you should be sleeping.

And your smile matches no other;
When you slam the door
when you scream out the window
when you stomp on the floor
when you play with the bread knife
when you mess with your razor
when you break the car radio
when you destroy the drywall.
When you buy rat poison.
When my food tastes bitter.
When I'm on the floor.

And your scowl matches no other.
When I'm being saved.

And your wail matches no other.
When I'm stepping out the door.

You fool. You thought I would stay?

how weird!

and i watch the young child cry over his dog who has been run over. he sobs, fake pink tears rolling through those transparent cheeks.

LOOK! a glitch. the dog has disappeared. the blood stays however, because it has stained the asphalt. the young child straightens up, and walks home to his equally transparent mother who stands in the arc of their home, calling him in for breakfast. he has forgotten all that has happened in the last 30 seconds.

the wizard at the corner of the forest stares back at me. his wife sits by their bubbling bathtub. what ever is he making now?

and THIS is a SIMULATION? the sky is nowhere near blue. instead, the grass is black, but not dead. WHAT is a requirement of life?

and my brain is silicone and plastic. my eyes are the cameras you stare at in fear. am i real? i’ve boggled you.

i can love, i promise. i have...

for you embrace me now even when you are gone (republished)

i.

I'm standing outside the cathedral you grew up in.

Your uncle was the priest, and your mother had helped design the interior. It used to be much more run-down, I remember. You gave me pictures to look at, before it was renovated.

You, as a youngster, helped your mother with the inside. She showed you pictures of old, old cathedrals in Europe. Gothic arches, Baroque curves, Rococo gilding. You loved the beauty of it all, so much so you worked on the cathedral till the day you died.

I met you there, one day, delivering your pizza to the front door of the tarped structure. I was surprised when you came to the makeshift door, because you were my age, covered in white dust but with a smile so wide I would've thought you had won the lottery, but no, you were just doing what you loved.

Thank you, you said.

You're welcome, it's $12, I said back....

q&a answers

do you have any favorite musicals?

oh yes yes yes. little shop of horrors has a special place in my heart, but follies and rent are also up there. some of the more modern ones like dear evan hansen, hamilton and be more chill are good too, but the first three just always give me goosebumps. and also mamma mia. because abba.

is there a story behind your username?

i mean there's a reason behind it? it's just a culmination of my first and middle name

what is your favorite musical artist?

pentatonix. i swear they deserve so much more recognition than they actually do. the amount of talent in that group blows me away every single time.

what is your favorite book/author (or both)?

im a sucker for modern day fantasy so 'the shadowhunter chronicles' are my favourite series, i will never stop loving it. but a few others are 'i'll give you the sun', it's absolutely beautiful; the...

open for questions (q&a)

i am hopping on the trend bandwagon here and i am sorry if seeing these on your dashboard has annoyed you since wtw is a writing website but. inspiration seems to have just vanished for me and i have no ideas as to what to write, so apologies this isn't an actual piece itself. however i did see this q&a thing happening and thought it might be a good idea, especially as i am relatively new to wtw and want to interact more with the community.

i actually don't know if anyone is interested enough in me to ask but pretty much anything is welcomed lol

puzzles and patience #thingsihate

SEVEN

    Timothy sits on the floor, jigsaw pieces scattered around him as he struggles to finish the picture. He's so close, five remaining pieces lay around him.

    "Come on!" His mother encourages, coaxing her child to find the right, most obvious piece. Her eyes dart not-so-subtly to the piece that is right by his hand. PICK IT UP the voice in her head shouts, PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD PICK IT UP.

    Poor Timmy. His eyes cast right over the piece, and his mother slumps ever so slightly, but a bright grin is still plastered on her face when his eyes swivel back to her.

    But that's it. Timothy is done. His mouth opens with a sound only a small child can emit, and he's howling with impatience, his hands coming down to smash the puzzle apart. It's a high-pitched wail and who knew? If Timothy had been given singing lessons, he...

puzzles and patience #thingsihate

SEVEN

    Timothy sits on the floor, jigsaw pieces scattered around him as he struggles to finish the picture. He's so close, five remaining pieces lay around him.

    "Come on!" His mother encourages, coaxing her child to find the right, most obvious piece. Her eyes dart not-so-subtly to the piece that is right by his hand. PICK IT UP the voice in her head shouts, PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD PICK IT UP.

    Poor Timmy. His eyes cast right over the piece, and his mother slumps ever so slightly, but a bright grin is still plastered on her face when his eyes swivel back to her.

    But that's it. Timothy is done. His mouth opens with a sound only a small child can emit, and he's howling with impatience, his hands coming down to smash the puzzle apart. It's a high-pitched wail and who knew? If Timothy had been given singing lessons, he...

the strangest chimera #hybrid

it sleeps in the earth's core,
one of the many earths.
drinking magma because it makes it feel like a
    god.

it belongs on mount olympus,
with the rest of them.
Deserves to be,
seated next to Persephone in the underworld.
except it prefers to dwell in the rocky caverns of
nowhere.
sirens and banshees are its friends,
the scales on its back allow it to swim with the water nymphs.

look,
there it is.
just over the horizon,
in the corner of your eye,
at the back of your head.

can you see the wings of a swan?
some say it's actually a dragon's wings.
its eyes come from a black cat, so good luck:
you'll never win a game of hide and seek with it.

the people in the village below mount olympus spin stories and legends about it.
they say that whichever animal it kills, it chooses a part it wants.
explains why their sheep stand by...

words for you

who knew someone like you existed?

i certainly didn't. i certainly wasn't prepared for the day you sauntered into the room, and you laughed and i saw the sun's rays beaming out of your skin. i certainly wasn't ready for your smile, which stretched so wide and bright that i was blinded for a moment and couldn't see a thing but was happy about it because it was you who did it. and when you came and sat next to me, i thought my heart had been put into a blender because my chest hurt so much but i was grinning like crazy because it was you. out of all the empty seats in the room, you chose to sit next to me.

when you followed me to the coffee shop i went to every afternoon afterwards, i tried to stop smiling, but then you swung your arm round my shoulders, and i felt your hand brush against...

Arctic Dreams

urban fairies

i dream of a city with skyscrapers that never end, with skies of colours unimaginable.

i dream of a city whose air smells like lavender and the streets wind like in the stories.

i dream of a city where music sings out the windows and ballerinas pirouette their way into the clouds.

obsidian #Experience

part i

aren't you fiery?
his hazel eyes, intertwined with amber flecks of fire,
his tongue is sharp, knives poised on the tip.
he looks at you, like a snake ready to pounce.

aren't you frosty?
her blue eyes, dotted with ultramarine and indigo.
her mouth barely moves with the magnitude of her words,
she sits in the corner, reading a book about how the world is burning.

part ii

it starts off slow.
exchanged smiles, slow glances in french class.
bright grins down the corridor.
their friends stop and stare, disbelief.

he's so annoying, why do you want to date him?
she doesn't really know, but he's electrifying.
isn't that enough?

god, her? she's so boring, you could do so much better.
the words grind against him in a way he can't explain.
she's not boring, she's quiet. Alluring.

part iii

their hands brush against each other as they leave class.
they pull back, eyes wide.

his skin was...

Human Connections Essay Competition 2019

Auntie

    I was twelve when she left.

    The moon was still visible in the early hours of the morning when she dragged her luggage out of the house. She had wanted to leave quietly, so not to make a fuss, but I woke from restless sleep because I wanted to catch her before she left and say a real goodbye. I said it, with only one goodbye and an uncountable number of I love yous. She stroked my head as she said those three words back, stroked the hair that she styled when I was five, held me like I was still a baby and she had to cradle me to sleep, kissed my forehead like I was her child. Her luggage stood by her side, large and present, a constant reminder that even though she was embracing me now, she would soon take that purple Samsonite out the door to the airport to another country,...

Human Connections Essay Competition 2019

Auntie

    I was twelve when she left.

    The moon was still visible in the early hours of the morning when she dragged her luggage out of the house. She had wanted to leave quietly, so not to make a fuss, but I woke from restless sleep because I wanted to catch her before she left and say a real goodbye. I said it, with only one goodbye and an uncountable number of I love yous. She stroked my head as she said those three words back, stroked the hair that she styled when I was five, held me like I was still a baby and she had to cradle me to sleep, kissed my forehead like I was her child. Her luggage stood by her side, large and present, a constant reminder that even though she was embracing me now, she would soon take that purple Samsonite out the door to the airport to another country,...

Human Connections Essay Competition 2019

Auntie

    I was twelve when she left.

    The moon was still visible in the early hours of the morning when she dragged her luggage out of the house. She had wanted to leave quietly, so not to make a fuss, but I kept waking from a restless sleep just because I wanted to catch her before she left and say a real goodbye. I said it, with only one goodbye and an uncountable number of I love yous. She stroked my head as she said those three words back, stroked the hair that she styled when I was five, held me like I was still a baby and she had to cradle me to sleep, kissed my forehead like I was her child. Her luggage stood by her side, large and present, a constant reminder that even though she was embracing me now, she would soon take that purple Samsonite out the door and to the...

Sunlight #raincontest

    Our school is positioned so in the morning, when the sun rises in the East, the buildings block out the sun so the pitch is freezing. In comparison, the west side of the school is nothing upon nothing upon nothing but pitch. By the time afternoon rolls around, you'll be smoking on the soccer pitch if you stay out there.

    Except he doesn't seem to mind.

    He stands, in the sun, for twenty minutes every day at exactly two in the afternoon. Who cares if you have class? He'll stand there, without fail, every day. Even if he wasn't in school (which was often, I have to say), he'll climb over the closed fence, his fragile looking arms shaking as he falls down the other side onto the pitch in a heap. He'll drag himself out there and stand in the sun, baking and roasting beneath his beige sweater and white, strangely polka-dotted trousers....

Sunlight #raincontest

    Our school is positioned so in the morning, when the sun rises in the East, the buildings block out the sun so the pitch is freezing. In comparison, the west side of the school is nothing upon nothing upon nothing but pitch. By the time afternoon rolls around, you'll be smoking on the soccer pitch if you stay out there.

    Except he doesn't seem to mind.

    He stands, in the sun, for twenty minutes every day at exactly two in the afternoon. Who cares if you have class? He'll stand there, without fail, every day. Even if he wasn't in school (which was often, I have to say), he'll climb over the closed fence, his fragile looking arms shaking as he falls down the other side onto the pitch in a heap. He'll drag himself out there and stand in the sun, baking and roasting beneath his beige sweater and white, strangely polka-dotted trousers....

Water Body

Limitless

the water is cool beneath her feet
she cannot feel it,
but it's there.

the sand is soft.
the air is cool.
the people are kind.
fish swim, swim, swim.

she sits by the coast,
her feet dangling just off her limitations.
she doesn't have it as easy, but
she's trying.



can people see that she loves the water?

the waves heave and crash,
following the rise and fall of her chest.
she breathes,
synonymous with the salty dihydrogen oxide.
one day, she'll be in there with the rest of them.

Water Body

Limitless

the water is cool beneath her feet
she cannot feel it,
but it's there.

the sand is soft.
the air is cool.
the people are kind.
fish swim, swim, swim.

she sits by the coast,
her feet dangling just off her limitations.
she doesn't have it as easy, but
she's trying.



can people see that she loves the water?

the waves heave and crash,
following the rise and fall of her chest.
she breaths,
synonymous with the salty dihydrogen oxide.
one day, she'll be in there with the rest of them.

One-Liner

Self-Destruction

All of us are Icarus.

Flash Fiction Competition 2019

The Mother-To-Be

    How tender, a moment can be. It is a waltz; they merrily dance together in pure bliss and all smiles. They break apart, and stare into the other’s eyes.
    Snap!
    He knows what’s coming, but she is too quick. Her grasp stretches and he is caught, before he isn’t. His headless body falls as she crunches. His skull is brittle in her jaw.
    She trots away, a belly full of him, a womb full of eggs. She knows, Nature –not history this time– will repeat itself. Perhaps next time, it will be her son’s head in another woman’s belly.

Flash Fiction Competition 2019

The Mother-To-Be

    How tender, a moment can be. It is a waltz; they merrily dance together in pure bliss and all smiles. They break apart, and stare into the other’s eyes.
    Snap!
    He knows what’s coming, but she is too quick. Her grasp stretches and he is caught, before he isn’t. His headless body falls as she crunches. His skull is brittle in her jaw.
    She trots away, a belly full of him, a womb full of eggs. She knows, Nature –not history this time– will repeat itself. Perhaps next time, it will be her son’s head in another woman’s belly.