decibel

tonight, i can’t get to sleep again. the rain clouds have parted and the skies are clear, leaving a cold crisp night easy on the body to rest and reach for the sheets. my mind goes back into a time machine bomb again and it ticks away, blood and drenched veins vividly playing in my head, shadows playing hate mail games with me and it brings me back to 1983.

the year where discovery begins with a perverse foot.

so i spent the rest till now and possibly all the end of my life searching for the missing pieces. trouble is, philosophy and christian education has given answers to understand how the dots join and lead to the deep longing for affection missing or in this context, twisted, in those impressionable years. it’s my disease and my personal strife and it’s not fair to seek fathering from those who have no blood obligations, nor is it loving to put them on the spot to get out of their normal routine and comfort to embrace lepers like me.

so how did i get here to let me heart beat again? did i not crucify it along with christian education and spiritualism?

i am stuck between it all. Between seeing what could be and where my lack is mutating into. I’d put a bullet to my head now, so I can stop the harm and inconvenience I am and will continue to cause. why God, did you have me walk this road less travelled? why God, if you the loving father that you are, would let me take these twisted thorns to graft into my flesh and leave me hunched and all lame and rejected by mankind? that if it is just me over imagining it, then why do I malfunction with women, and men, and be confused with search for my father? why would you let me suffer this meaninglessly? I cannot comprehend how love goes in your context, for, to be honest, i seem to be living in the polar opposite of the short stick end.

Is it so wrong to desire the warm security more than my pillow companion can give? Will you end my beating bleeding anatomy and lay me now to sleep?

1983

i was probably getting myself into some serious shit that I had not anticipated. to be honest, the medical examination at school left me, the 9 year old, a little more curious than my shorts could hold.

i found the mirror more fascinating than usual on a hot afternoon after school. i dropped my undies and decided to examine myself, pull, stretch, grope, flick, put puppetry to my curious anatomy, and see what else I could discover. As the saying goes, shit hits the fan, i noticed through the corner of my eye, a familiar face looking over the high wall over my room. It was mum, looking furious, as she discovered what I was toying with.

she reached for the cane, the lot, and spoke her judgement. pevert, sick bastard; all creative imaginary twisted words and labels lavished generously as the cane came crashing and whipping. i screamed, cried, scuttled to the corner of my room in my nakedness, in shame, groveling in pain. i don’t know what happened next but all i recall was a helpful douse of chilli sauce finding its way up my anus, fingers pushing past, pumping, driving deep the burn into my body.

“you will find burning joss sticks and incense up your ass the next time i catch you playing with your weenie again!”

my sex education was complete.

love, they say, is tough. spare the rod, spoil the child. tough love, indeed, my arse.

freedom

unchartered, these territories. new places, strange faces, new found fear from some era of oppression. these questions now finding feet and answers. they are unspoken. untold. hidden under sheets and covers. we don't talk about it, for it may come as a a stumbling block. all this bubble wrap culture now we are dismantling. all my fast food garbage pre packaged vomit. i'm learning, painfully peeling off the labels and idealogies passed down from those who have gone before, to try and fix this land and make it a holy sanctuary.

we were made to run free, we were made to rule, reign, we were made to make mistakes, take calculated risks, exercise the wisdom and faculties He has given us. what will my hand put to work today? What meaning will I create to find meaning and connection in all these relationships and this balance thing? I just want to belong. To take my chances, fire my shots when I see them, for I never know what may be the lesser of the two evils. Freedom does not mean there is no pain.

I'm learning, watching, learning, following, watching, learning, day by day.

skin

why am i so damaged to need your affection so bad? That it consumes me, that the denial leads me down gutters that feed me junk to satisfy the starved heart, that the convenience of moving pictures makes it easier to get through the night, only for the morning to wake with a deeper mutation.

i remember when i got my first set of whip marks on my arms. that humiliating burn on my ears more painful than the wounds.

some days, my imagination just want to provoke you to draw your fist. at least the drawing of my blood allows my skin to interface with what lacked in my formative years. but this evening, your lingering scent in the living room looked promising. or perhaps i am reading too much into purposes never intended. i wish i was better, easier to handle, low on maintenance. perhaps you are regretting giving your initial attention. i wish i ceased so you may go live what you believe you see with your naked eye.

how did i get here? how did we end up this way? how long can i last? when will i lose my mind?gonna be irresponsible.there is no such thing as salvation.love don't live here anymore.we're all left alone to drown in our own devices.rest in peace.

last night

thought i'd have thrown in the decision to derail it. nights been tough, sleepless, interrupted, thoughts and threats giving me speeches and seizures all through the hours. i'm crowded with pillows, tiger plush blankets, an overused quilt and the corner of the room, tucked away, wrapped in warm tin foil, ready for the bake. ready, for strength, for resolve and the breath that trickle down my shoulders, except it's all in my head. prayers and incantations, all crazy such surrealism, of a smiling affection, a cavity of safety, my eyes blinded from all reality, incubating and waiting, for healing to rub it's balm all over this bruised batter.

starvation, hunger and this famine, all too familiar, all too obvious. but none of these hands, friends, know where to start, how to begin. they know why, but are they listening? Are YOU listening? am i praying the wrong prayers, asking for the wrong things? If my instinct be so raw, my body becoming so primal, why do you tarry this wait, this, is this my fate? Why will you let me down this path the way it is doing now?

Give me this day my daily patches. Till the next moment to keep me breathing on.

changes

there's a murmur and the sound of occasional flipping of magazine pages from the other room. i'm still feeling a tad overfed from the big bowl laksa, tea and soya bean milk. my heart sits quietly, racing but still, in comfortable peace as it recovers from the conversation in the deep blue. how many days and months has it been? it feels like a long time ago since i sat at the feet of a warrior, listening to courage, smell the killer instinct and resolve few dare to dream of, and be inspired. it is a privilege I am constantly grateful for.

"that's why i look up to you..."

these are moments when time stands still, my world and all the distracting noise shuts up. and i find my bearing as my attention is commanded, captured and contained. it's like finding respect for the first time, to stand in awe of a giant, realizing that there are some ordinary people who are larger than life. that these saints and legends do exist and I am standing in the turn of tide and time, witnessing the harnessing power of the Father at work, watching His fingerprints marked all over our humanity, His grace, hope, faith demonstrated in the ones considered to be the least by the world's standards.

"you won't change, i know you won't..."

my hands reached out in love, to share in the pain, to share in the resolve, to give honour like a military gun salute. i watch in amazement, taking in the moment, listening to every nuance, taking mental notes, following the step and rhythm of this raw diamond in the cut. i held my breath and my tears and let it sink in, the healing, etching one more brush stroke onto my tainted canvas.

"i'm proud of you my brother..."

it's strange but when i consider the long nights, the repeated prayers, the stubborn belief, the thick skin resolve, it occurred to me that my trust in my sovereign God isn't that misplaced. That He strings it altogether, in His time, cos we are not quite His story yet. Cos we are still learning and breaking all the time. He is still big enough for our stuff up, screw ups and stiff shit.

And as I remove the bandage from my wrist, I'm learning that, Father knows best.

drown

that picture took all of the guard and left me drowned in tears on my desk, powerbook closed, sleep light glowing. why does this haunt me day after day, all these happy families, reunited, in love with one another, who will lay down their lives without a blink?

i think about my big brother. how he's laying down his life.

i am not sure if God is who I trust anymore. is it funny to YOU that I keep getting reduced every time a picture of grace and blessing meets me on this road. I can look away, draw blanks in the sand, turn to my drugs and wayward down, but this does not let me go. You don't let me go. How is it that You love me and deny me the very foundation blocks that will draw the bridge? I cannot comprehend and perhaps I am still caught up in religious romaticism. what is it YOU fucking want from me?

so near, yet so far. so close, yet so distant. so in love, yet so abandoned. please stop whispering that salvation is round the corner. take my blood from me and draw from me the life that YOU gave, for I am wretched, unworthy and unwanted anyway. snub my life from me, make it quick, make me sink and never a whimper ever to be heard. for i never want to be remembered.