Whitey

All night long, she whimpered and squirmed on the cold floor,
and twice she slumped against the nothingness on her way to the front door.
The wind rammed the windows, swirls of leaves swept outside,
While the moon’s presence grew scarce,
Leaning against the bed, I burst into a flood of tears.

Book Review: Stoner by John Williams

To read John William’s “Stoner” is to regard a decrepit building by the sidewalk, falling into disrepair. It is a study of slow decay, sometimes propelled by external forces in its neighborhood until it collapses under its weight. We are, with our hands tied, forced to witness an act of destruction upon a man who remains undeterred until the very end, characterized by his endurance, faith, and extraordinary grace.

My Mother Does Not Awaken

Also, mother, do not forget the oxygen cylinders. We need to refill them for the night.

A Place of Quiet Objects

If there’s anything that you must hold on to for dear life, it is your memory. It is a reminder of a life lived, albeit etched with suffering and hardships.

The Art of Drowning

I learnt the art of drowning at the delicate age of ten,⁣⁣⁣⁣
when I was neck-deep in the toilet bowl, gasping for breath,⁣⁣⁣⁣
my voice reduced to flailing arms.⁣⁣⁣⁣