Utterlymydump

Image: Desolated-Colours on DeviantArt Sing to the heavens. Get on your knees and cry your heart out. Let your soul soar, touch the sky in bliss. Alto, soprano — all in one.  I want to follow The words of my elders Please, let me. Am I doing something wrong? Where is God? Why does my soul contort, Ever twisting?  *** Disclaimer: I use my platform to write whatever is on my mind and my opinions may differ from yours. Whether you agree or disagree with me, I would love to hear your thoughts in the comments. However, I would encourage civil discussions so that we can all learn from one another. Thank you! If you enjoy my work, consider joining my Telegram channel to read short snippets of future works and bonus thoughts on the world around me. Thanks for stopping by!

  Image: notonthehighstreet I hear faint voices talking downstairs. Unmistakingly belonging to a  Man and woman – what might they be Discussing this time? Perhaps the dishes were left undone Or the wrong cloth was used to wipe Tables with minuscule food debris the Naked eye is unable to catch The sounds get louder The sounds get angrier Are they squabbling? Are they arguing? I rush downstairs to Break them apart and  Return the house to silence To make the noise stop But there’s nobody there. And I realise –  The house was quiet all along. They aren’t even home yet. *** Disclaimer: I use my platform to write whatever is on my mind and my opinions may differ from yours. Whether you agree or disagree with me, I would love to hear your thoughts in the comments. However, I would encourage civil discussions so that we can all learn from one another. Thank you! If you enjoy my work, consider joining my Telegram channel to read short snippets of future works and bonus thoughts on the world ar

Image: boredpanda.com Because the doors are locked My body relaxes as I sink  Drown senseless pesky thoughts Sink deeper and deeper Till they open the door and See the space left behind  Crater of a body once snug And I fall, F A L L *** Disclaimer: I use my platform to write whatever is on my mind and my opinions may differ from yours. Whether you agree or disagree with me, I would love to hear your thoughts in the comments. However, I would encourage civil discussions so that we can all learn from one another. Thank you! If you enjoy my work, consider joining my Telegram channel to read short snippets of future works and bonus thoughts on the world around me. Thanks for stopping by!

Art by Helene Delmaire Shrivelled roots attached to trees Perpetually bald and gaunt frowns Hollow logs that whisper agonising Moans of age long gone Still photosynthesising against  The will of their ghosts Barren animal carcasses litter the street No plants left to colonise rancid husks Pungent smells permeate the air and Scream for their lost souls  Eerie cries for species  Mother Earth once knew As for men – A kind of Leprosy consumes their Arms, legs, gorging out their eyes Empty torsos desperately search for life But it’s better this way.  It’s better this way.  *** Disclaimer: I use my platform to write whatever is on my mind and my opinions may differ from yours. Whether you agree or disagree with me, I would love to hear your thoughts in the comments. However, I would encourage civil discussions so that we can all learn from one another. Thank you! If you enjoy my work, consider joining my Telegram channel to read short snippets of future works and bonus thoughts on the world

Image: Pangdemonium.com Recently, I watched Pangdemonium’s People, Places & Things and it was pretty phenomenal. I watched it with my Boyfriend at the Esplanade’s Singtel Waterfront Theatre, which I didn’t know was a separate wing from the main ‘durian’ building. I went into the play blind but apparently, we did an excerpt of the play during Junior College in Literature class. I have vague memories of this being a thing, but again, not really. The theatre’s setup was pretty interesting. The stage was in the middle of the theatre and reminded me of those booby traps in action movies where the walls start closing in when activated. We sat pretty close to the stage (3 rows) and speculated that the very first row of black seats (not your typical cushion chair in theatres) that looked super normal was part of the show and would come into play during a scene regarding Alcoholics Anonymous. Spoiler alert: It didn’t. The people in the seats were actual audience members.  The Stage The act

By Diana Traykov I know a girl My dad once knew When she was about my age, No older than 20 – She died. Raped and murdered One evening she was jogging Running to her death – She was just a girl. That’s why my dad can’t sleep till He knows I’ve returned home safely. I know a girl  Who knows a girl Who knows many girls (I know them too) And don’t worry, None of them died. They just felt uncomfortable On the train or bus Someone kept looking at them A whole mind-consuming spiral – Am I imagining it? Am I egotistical? Am I overreacting? An oddly held phone, Just a coincidence, perhaps. I know a girl A girl who was asked to change her clothes You look like a whore, people would talk.  A girl who was called a slut She’s easy. A girl who was called a virgin I would love to take away her innocence. Strong, independent women GIRLBOSS, BOSS BABE They’re girls , they’re babes They’re probably bossy too. I know a girl. She knows a girl who knows a girl who knows a girl who knows a girl … We all