Before I depart to a land of no return
There are words I would like to say
But these words will turn into echos, into dust
Before they can reach you.
There are many a times I tried to reach
Beyond the looking glass
To the dimension where you are
But you are so lost, so lost in the desert storm
I can’t find you no more.
Sometimes I want to
Give up, give up.
There is no wind to lift my wings no more
In this flight, I can’t soar
I am dying, dying.
Yet, singing singing
A song that you can’t hear
In the desert storm
My words turn to echoes of the wind
As the dust buries me
deep into the desert soil
Life lines are hanging on electric poles
There is no electricity, just the illusion of electricity
There is no fear, just the illusion of fear
There is no history, just the continuous rewriting of history.
What we believe today, may be changed tomorrow.
The tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow.
It isn’t today, today, today.
Fear is the biggest illusion.
We are all free to be.
Make it happen.
Stars lighted all corners of the pitch black darkness as I floated through space.
Floating and yet not moving.
Suspended by anti gravity.
My body is waste matter.
Broken comets floated alongside.
The air feels as cold as the dead of the night.
In this state, I screamed your name.
No sound vibrated in the vacuum.
Drifting like a weightless entity.
I tried gulping for air like a swimmer in the muddy seas.
Her laughter used to fill the room.
She sat on the circular table once, but now that seat remains empty. The circle now has a hole. It’s an incomplete circle but a curved line with no joined endings.
“It’s unauspicious to leave a gap on a circular table,” my grand uncle said, beckoning for her young son to seat in the empty chair although he can’t fit comfortably in an adult sized chair.
The sudden departure of her years ago, in this exact same moment, seemed like it was a second passed. Her son sulks in her seat, turning backwards to face the television.
It just isn’t the same, isn’t the same without her booming laughter. There was awkward silences and pauses in the conversation that was once filled with her loud voice.
Once upon a time, she flew the skies as a stewardess in a sarong kabaya. She met an Irishman and gave life to three beautiful Eurasian kids. The youngest, who looked uncanny like her but with dark brown eyes, now sat beside me on the circular table. He continued to watch the television.
I paid attention to every single detail, soaking the conversation in like it may be the last moment before someone goes to the next world. There are no warnings, no signs. The silent killer lurks deeply embedded in our DNA. There is no running or hiding, it strikes when no one is looking, in the pink of health, in the moment of joy.
When it was time to leave my grand uncle called from behind, “Where’s your lover? Bring him to me!”
I chirped like a nightingale and ran towards the sunset. Running and running through fortresses, castles and ancient ruins. Lost in my wanderlust of endless adventure. My dreams of conquering the world with my words, conjoined with my lover in a black cocoon covered by my long hair in our dance before we emerging as butterflies.
She once sang a song in the skies. One day I will meet her in the heaven and tell her about all the worlds I wrote. She would say to me in her resonant voice, “Well done, you had completed the full circle.”
You breathed colours into my monochrome life.
Pieced the shattered fragments of my soul.
Listened to my soul song and saw me for who I am.
Embraced my core as one complete whole instead of two halves.
How could I ever thank you?
The memories of us, forged into one desire.
Our letters, now immortalized.
Our love, radiating outwards like the sun.
Time and space seems to drift us further away in this galaxy divided by sliding screens.
For this I must sing my song, louder and louder to reach to you.
When I say “echo”, my promise lives on, for us and for others like us, they will feel our combined purpose in the liberation of others in their kinky ways.
You are my daemon and the air that I breathe.
The light has returned to my eyes.
I await for you painfully with pleasure.
A song of an angel
My fondest memory of Japan is visiting Disneyland with my parents when I was nine years old. On the space mountain ride, I discovered my subspace. The weightless feeling of being suspended in midair by motion. The helplessness of being unable to control my fate.
The roller coaster is moving faster than the speed of light in pitch black darkness only lighted by stars. I felt empowered after the ride. I had been through the depths of sub space and back, what else is there to fear? Since then I was a thrill seeker for that adrenaline rush to free my body into that state of nothingness. In the Shinkansen writing this, I am reminded of the motion of being in a fast speed vehicle. The sounds are deafening on both sides as the landscapes are waving past in blurry vision.
Still, the Shinkansen isn’t my space mountain. My sub space now belongs to the realm of total power transfer to the master that I trust. Only he can lift me into those heights that defies gravity in his usage of suspension of ropes and control over my mind. This has been the state that I used to over come my fears to transcend from my ego to self. I still had not fully comprehend the usage of this complicated ritual of power transfer synergy in my relationships with men. But I believe it is possible, even for a brief moment of bliss. Everything else in the journey towards that sub bliss space is worth it.
The freedom that comes with weightlessness is like being suspended in two states – the state of gravity and anti gravity. In this state, there is zero pain. The usual body aches melts into liquid wax. The fears and doubts in the mind dissipate into emptiness. My spirit is united with the heavens again. I hear my name even more clearly now. My purpose grows stronger with revelation in the suspended state.
I recalled sweating all over in cold sweat after the space mountain ride. I had never experienced something like this before. How can I recreate it when I leave Disneyland forever? I found my answer with trusting my mind to men who could overpower my will. That backfired, and I lost my will for many years after an abuse on trust. Instead, I imposed my will on others and made them my submissive so I can relish in my control of their minds and bodies.
The more addicted I grew to the sensation of control, the colder I became and the more numb I felt. There was the other part of me that desired to be controlled as well but it wasn’t fulfilled. My revelations unfolded very slowly. Failed relationships after failed relationships. No one can figure out what I needed or wanted. Neither could I. I am but a vast void that no matter how much love was showered upon me, I could never feel loved.
The duality of my conflicting needs began to set into a rift and constant struggle for me to dominate or be dominated. I found every opportunity to enact these secret desires by going for gym classes that I wasn’t good in to be verbally abused by ex army sergeants, or by simply killing all my opponents mercilessly in a good game of left for dead and getting the highest scores.
I did all these subconscious things before I was even aware of doing them. I had no clue what was wrong. I just wanted my subspace, and no one seemed to be able to understand that desire of my void lies with my problem with control.
I still have not found my answers and I am still seeking for them as I transverse from Osaka to Tokyo on this high speed bullet train. The endless travels around the world this year had given me no answers to this fundamental need that is still left unfulfilled. I am on the quest on my next adventure to find that sub space once again.
Another day in this highly densely populated vertical city. My life revolves around shopping malls alternating with my co working office and gym. A triangle lifestyle of going to three different points on weekdays. If this is the urbanised mode of living, going from one building to the next, then I am living indoors almost the whole day. Probably as compared to trekking a hill or climbing up some cliffs, the death rate is low except for car accidents. But why do I feel so discomforted in such a safe haven?
I have a compelling urge to travel and explore the unknown territories. To drive down the roads leading up hills and right to the edge of the ocean cliffs. I want to feel uncomfortable. I want to feel challenged by my environment. But there is no mountain to climb nor ocean to see here. It’s just buildings after buildings. Food is served fast in convenience chains and franchises.
I miss my old life in Melbourne where food is served slowly, and there are endless of parks and nature to explore down trails and paths that lead to no where. I miss visiting the large pond in the university campus. It takes about half an hour to walk there but it’s worth the walk down the windy path to feed the ducks before sunset. I would meet a friend there, and she would pack extra home cooked food to share. I miss that slowness of and enjoyment of life.
Now, time is measured as money, and people are scrambling and rushing everywhere in this city. By 6pm, the lights go out and the office closes to save on electricity. The soap is automatically dispensed so that germ contamination is minimal. The public areas is cleaned multiple times a day by a throng of cleaners. It’s an OCD paradise. You probably never have to touch another human in this sterile and cold environment. The clinical aspect of this city makes me miss the warm and friendly nature of Melbournians.
I never see happy faces or smiles. Only fake polite smiles from service staff. It’s cold and distant. It’s part of city life. I don’t really like it. I feel quite foreign here. There is no realness or aliveness to anything. It’s close to being robotic. The motions are constant, the schedules do not change. It’s the same process everyday. Everything is delivered on time, precisely without any errors. It’s voted one of the best cities in the world, one of the most expensive even. But there are no humans here, only robots.
I feel a need to go into the jungle and get lost in the unknown. That is probably a more natural state of being human, is to go on a constant adventure and not know what you are in for. Not sterile robotic utopia. I believe in the organic development of creativity, not government imposed rules and regulations to meet requirements to be “innovative”. That, stifles creations. Creativity should grow naturally like plants in a forest, and not in an artificial greenhouse with added fertilizer. Being in a greenhouse kills the plants state to evolve. In the wild however, they can mutate, they can cross propagate, they can become hybrids.
I feel I am an exception to the norm of this city, I am a wild plant in this greenhouse. But it’s stifling and I feel breathless at times. It is true that it is as safe as a haven it can get with such sterile standards, but the lack of the unknown makes me dull and dream about my next road trip although I had barely landed. I don’t seem to take root in this city. I am like a drifter in the clouds, in the cloud virtual space, floating, floating. I can’t seem to settle or germinate. It’s an endless state of being lost in transition.