Supplemented by the instrumental of Eason Chan’s 淘汰 (2007).
Everything today reminds me of you. I molest my hair, nails rake the scalp over and over again till it burns, bleeds and rots. Like a dog, bringing a paw up to scratch its face in a frenzy, less the bleeding and the rotting of course. You can’t blame me, this shampoo demands unreasonably wet hair, it refuses to foam otherwise. The trickling droplets participate in the molestation. I surrender by dropping my palms, foam still clinging onto the precipice for dear life, I’m not sure why. They join the scalp to burn me alive; water doesn’t work when the burning’s inside, you should know that by now. Muffledness is our condition. You, slightly; me, absolutely. Physical intimacy is important. That’s the tender way of saying sex; relax, let us pretend we are saints for just one day, alright? I gasp for breath saying “I love you” because my neck’s still pressed down into
the muddy waters
of the broken.
But I say it still. Remember, a poem can only exert its essence once, all subsequent readings are mere revisitings. Then, she presents me with her sacredness. Should I go all out with it, or be tender? It depends on her. Though I want to say you have that body and I want it. I don’t make a nice cuppa until I know the book is good. How many actually understand art? The real artists don’t consume art on the train or the bus. I should let you know that this entire poem was thought of during this shower. Yes. And I’ll end it by telling you: “if optimal nutrition can’t be sustained eternally, let us consume and swallow each other momentarily.”
Brandon Choo
metaphorical insanity. 