Showing posts with label hijab. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hijab. Show all posts
I H A T E B E I N G N A K E D
Too frail for the world, too fragile for you. My scarred stomach and bruised thighs are proof. Nimble fingers trail down shaking skin. I shroud myself in fabric. Beneath cloth hide pale wounds from wars long ago. I never asked for these scars.
So why do you?
O F F I C I A L L Y A C O L L E G E G R A D U A T E
If you follow me on Instagram or Twitter, you might have known my Sixth Form had their graduation ceremony. Academic Achievers were handed hard glass, symbolising the literal sweat and tears lost throughout the past two years. A celebration for being adequate on standardised testing.
A request I 'forgot.'
L O O K F O R T H E B A R E N E C E S S I T I E S
Forget about the tears cried last night. From all the pain of our strife. Perhaps then we'll find the happiness we need.
We sit in the dark, dulled in need of the golden sun. Nothing is right in the world so wrong. Vying for light beneath grey days. But when it is bleak, it will be bright. Perhaps we just need to look for the simple needs, letting go of desire. Perhaps then we can prepare for the life we want to live. Perhaps then we can finally rest in peace.
But I'm still searching for the simple bare necessities of life.
T H E R A I N W A S H E D Y O U A W A Y
And I couldn't be happier.
You left me stained with black soot. Since I touched your heart, its mess invaded my bones. Defiled my frame with smears of you. So I scrubbed the rotten skin till it bled red. Soaked myself in oils and prayed you disappeared. Your scars still remained, etched into my flesh as marks I never desired.
In desperation, I stepped into a storm to drown. Grey fog enclosed my being. The deluge of cold pools came pouring down. Drenched in clear rain but frozen in heat. I crawled out in white and blue, not a spot left of you.
You left me stained with black soot. Since I touched your heart, its mess invaded my bones. Defiled my frame with smears of you. So I scrubbed the rotten skin till it bled red. Soaked myself in oils and prayed you disappeared. Your scars still remained, etched into my flesh as marks I never desired.
In desperation, I stepped into a storm to drown. Grey fog enclosed my being. The deluge of cold pools came pouring down. Drenched in clear rain but frozen in heat. I crawled out in white and blue, not a spot left of you.
I think I am finally clean.
N O T H I N G I S E V E R B L A C K A N D W H I T E
Unfortunately.
Everything shades itself in dull grey than pitch black or pure white. Thoughts are complicated, tangled in a circumscribe mind. Our black and white ideas battles itself into a quiver of clouds left unsatisfied. So we end our thoughts with half-ended summaries to explain.
This realization unfolded when my package from NewChic* arrived. And reminded me why life is so grey.
This realization unfolded when my package from NewChic* arrived. And reminded me why life is so grey.
A grand Venetian in love with art, and passion and wonder. Instead, I am Bruneian in love with the illusions of Venice. Though we may have the Venice of The East in our Water Village, I yearn Venice herself.
Sammy Dress* has helped me achieve that dream. To an extent. With this glorious skirt, it inspired me to fashion an outfit based on Venice. The skirt is perfect. Sammy Dress itself?
Well...
Sammy Dress* has helped me achieve that dream. To an extent. With this glorious skirt, it inspired me to fashion an outfit based on Venice. The skirt is perfect. Sammy Dress itself?
Well...
W E H I D F R O M B U L L E T S U N D E R D I S C O B A L L S
Play that funky music. And pray we survive the night. Dance under strobe lights before we drop. After our hearts beat to the rhythm. Beating itself from iron casings that shatter ribs. Hold these cassettes close to our chests, needing KISS to survive. Listening to vinyls muted children's cry.
Don't leave me this way, in a crowded room full of strangers. It's silent on the dance floor. Deafening music hide clattering guns cocking. The song plays well and we all fall.
I will survive. They won't.
Don't leave me this way, in a crowded room full of strangers. It's silent on the dance floor. Deafening music hide clattering guns cocking. The song plays well and we all fall.
I will survive. They won't.
W E ' R E T H E N E W R O M A N T I C S
Come along with me. Darling, there's so much to do and so much to be. Expected to be without love but lost in it. A product of hollow hearts and empty embraces from the generation of cynics and skeptics. Liasons leave as we remain. Infatuation concise but intense. A paramount of pleasure perfect in this reckless collisions.
Darling, we could be so free.
We could be lovers lighting the dark. Hiding from dangers found and monsters lurking around. Without morals, without judgement, without care. We could be so happy. In a perfect moment without a tomorrow. Alone together without a goodbye. Be one without another.
Darling, won't you love me?
L I F E I S B U I L T O N A S E T O F R U L E S.
Of what to do's, and what not to do's. Ingrained in our brains since childhood. Developed until teenagehood. Ignored by adulthood and eventually repeated by elderhood. We are in an endless cycle of rules and regulations. Most of them set by ourselves.
It's difficult to decide what rules to follow when we don't know what is there to do. So many things to do and not to do.
So what do you want to do?
On Wednesdays, we wear pink. Or nude-pink. Whatever looks nice.
Alternative Title: If Wednesday Addams was a Plastic.
It won’t ever happen. Perhaps in some alternate dimension I'd like to pretend. But we all know she would still be a homicidal maniac. She’d eat Regina George alive and skin the Plastics. That is a crossover I’d kill see.
Tell me. Why is it so hard to style shredded boyfriend jeans?
I spent the bulk of last night with piles of shirts on my bed. My mind organizing this beautiful mess, wondering how to look effortlessly decent. Despite endless scrolling through Pinterest, I found nothing. Boyfriend jeans are tricky. The only baggy jeans I have, and ripped as well.
Three hours passed and I gave up. I tossed the shirts on my already messy floor, and fell into deep, dead slumber. Shredded Boyfriend Jeans are a beast I cannot defeat.
Wrath is a powerful tool for destruction. I'll let you bubble and boil. Under the surface of your skin. In the hot breath of your lips. Over the dense judgement of your mind. I'll let you hold your shrieks and screams. The animosity between you and I, it can't be contained.
I'll be there. When hate builds up and that is all you feel. When you look at pretty faces and their pretty lies. When you see beautiful bigots and their bias. When you feel, I'll be there. I am Anger. The anger in you. I will make you suffer. I will make you scream. I will drive you insane.
I am a powerful tool for destruction.
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