day 365

19 in 4 parts

i.

on your birthday,

you were sound asleep in Autumn

with the boy you swore you would marry

and a mattress that didn't have the arms to hold you.

the first time you tried to escape,

you picked up your passport an hour before your flight

and found yourself in the cold of Toronto.

all pigeon and black squirrel

not enough clothing or warmth

too many streets you did not know how to pronounce.

you became gypsy queen

desperately trying to find your purpose in life

in a city that wanted to swallow you whole

ii.

during the first snowfall of December,
your heart sang its final battle cry
with fingernails sprawled across his skin.
when you became knife
you became machete
and ax
and heart attack
you became the first drop of blood
the last time you would ever throw your body at something so monstrous
you became savage
all that barbaric prison
sadistic lover
no more excuse to keep killing yourself.
when the cops refused to come
when your neighbors didn't bother to calm your screaming
when he tried to heal your wounds with booze
and lies
and more women,
you cried.
for the first time in this skin,
you let them know that you are human
and all blood
all warrior
all woman.

iii.

when the first flowers came up for breath

you found your smile the most comforting song you could ever sing.

with a mouth filled with softness

all the sweetness you had been missing

when you realized you became queen

you became birthday

everyday

stronger swimmer

drowning in forgiveness

a lot of tears

a lot of being born again

you found your voice

learned how to speak

learned who to speak for

let it heal

let it out

let it breathe

let them hear you

don't let them touch you when you cry

pick yourself up again

and again

and on the days you think you cannot

you continue

wipe that sadness off your body with a rag

refuse to become one with the broken

the worn out

learned how to separate yourself from who you used to be

iv.

when the girl of your dreams

found out how to hurt you

to leave you with jaw broken and head still high,

you let her leave.

let her think of you when her new girlfriend scowls at your name.

when you cannot bring yourself to love the boy

who loves you back,

you question your intentions.

when everyone is asleep in their beds

dreaming of smoke and prayer

there is a god within you

pushing you to love

to breathe again

for yourself.

inside of you,

lies a thunder so unsettling

a sky ready to erupt

the patch of skin waiting to become whole again.

inside of you,

there is something greater.

there will always be something to grasp onto

something that needs you

someone that needs you

somewhere that is waiting for you to claim home

inside of you,

lies a goddess.

ready to love.

to heal.

to come home.

day 364

Nineteen wants to say hello
rest your head comfortably this time
tell your inner goddess to burst
you are made of river rock
and all the waves that push you down
when the sea salt smooths your skin
this is how it feels to save yourself

Nineteen wants to sing
in a sun shower
the devil is not beating his wife
she left him
for a better lover
she is crying for joy
for
I've found better for myself
for today I am more alive than I've ever been

day 363

Lost doesn't know where he wants to be

Lost doesn't know that I'm serious

that my body is not open invitation

I am not the girl of his dreams

Not willing to fall asleep on backyard hammock

We will not share the soft summer wind

or the hard glare of winter together

We only share quiet

and uncomfortable

And I am avoiding you for a reason

Lost doesn't know how hard it is to tell him to fuck off

Lost doesn't understand that he is suffocating you

Trapping you in your pleasures

Simple trips to the grocery store

To class

To the library

Lost doesn't want you to speak to anyone else

Even if you are speaking to somebody else

Anybody else

Like it is a cry for hope

His body is fly against stadium lights

We all watch how much he likes to burn

fizzle

Turn to ash.

Lost,

I am apologizing to my own skin for wanting to apologize to you

I am tainted

And blotted with fear

it is etched onto my skin with sharpened bamboo

Call this what we call prayer

Drilling ink inside ourselves for protection

This is how my blood does it.

I am searching for ways to become safe again

in my own skin.

day 362

I.

In this dream, I was driving down an orange grove as the sun was setting. I ended up at my friend's boutique. She lives in Singapore. I tried on her jewelry and she dressed me like she didn't have enough use of her hands. She was warm. I needed that.

II.

I met someone with a garden and we just smiled without showing our teeth. Too many secrets underneath our tongues, waiting to dissolve. Maybe I'm not ready to love you. I don't think that she wants me to.

III.

Today my doctor asked me what I was studying. I told him English. He asked about my plans after school.

"I want to teach English in Spain. Maybe Portugal. Or Guatemala. Or maybe even Japan. My family thinks that I'll be kidnapped and sold as a sex slave. I hate that I have to worry about that."

IV.

"I think you should go. The world is too small for your potential."

V.

In March, I'll be visiting my friends back in Toronto. I miss the air there. The cold and the subways. I miss how tall they make me feel. Bigger than my own skin. I am sprouting mangos and stretching roots underground. Sometimes I fall in love with souls in other countries. Sometimes I wake up in a cold sweat and realize I am settling for bodies. Just arms and throats. A lot of angel hair and glowing skin. I let out a sigh. The world is too small.

day 361

"we all make mistakes/ we do/ I learned from you"

how many times have you given your soul to the hungry in the park? when the streetlights flood the pavement like learning how to swim for the first time. after your kayak flips over and you are stranded in lake without the safety of life vest. of nothing to hold onto. of my hands are so bare today, where are you headed, why aren't you any closer to communion. the first time i prayed to God, i prayed for forgiveness and asked to be held by a body that did not know my name. he sent me water. he sent me bathtub and red sea. the buoyancy of salt water. mariana trench. the feeling of not touching the ground with your toes. all calloused and worthy. when was the last time he kissed your feet? when your dirt was his gold? how many times will you jump off diving board backwards just to face the truth? we can't see underwater without help. without protecting your vision. i've become a martyr for not worshiping this lack of jewel. there are not enough miles to swim. there are not enough depths of you i'd want to explore.

day 360

You can search throughout the entire universe for someone who is more deserving of your love and affection than you are yourself, and that person is not to be found anywhere. You yourself, as much as anybody in the entire universe deserve your love and affection. (Buddha)

Maybe this was all an accident.
We forgot to press pause to cherish the moment.
We've forgotten whose birthday we're celebrating.

When you wake up with hands filled with toxicity and a sunken mattress,
how do you stop yourself from crying?
One night I dreamed of driving off a cliff.
I toppled over and woke up in a stranger's bedroom.
I rolled over and woke up in a puddle of my own fear.
I am learning to control what I have no control over.
Learning to become one with my phobias,
bad loves,
those I cannot bring myself to love.
Allowing myself to forgive myself.

day 359

Things I need to do before I turn twenty:

sleep in

paint myself

paint myself naked

paint myself while being naked

rub my dog's belly

soak in the cold sun

start collecting children's books

give my mom something she will be proud of

write my first script

change my bed sheets

stop slouching

fight the nerves

be more bitchy

be more kind

be more kind to myself

appreciate my friends

stop forgetting about those who actually love me

stop comparing myself to other girls

stand taller

stretch completely

get picture frames

tell my mom I love her

stop asking my father for material things

continue to stop holding back

live my own life

forget about the past

completely

or try to

just breathe

love my sister

tell my brother I miss him

take a break

remember that my happiness is in front of me, not where I force myself to be

day 358

mum's advice:

don't compare yourself to anyone
don't worry about the success of others
their beauty
their money
their luck
their blessings
focus on yourself
how can you become a better you today?
when was the last time you made yourself happy?
don't rely on others making you happy
don't allow anyone to rely on you to become happy
be happy for other people
if you give good, you receive good
if you give bad, you receive worse

day 357

I had a dream that I was being stabbed with needles. I woke up in a cold sweat and searched up the meaning behind it. It says that I'm thinking too much about a damaged relationship. I'm not sure which relationship it is referring to. Today I thought of you and we ran into each other. I'm pretty sure my dream wasn't about you. Not because I'm not thinking of you, but because I am sick of doing so. If you've ever had a real wake up call, you'd agree that your dreams are the closest you are to the truth. There are way too many dishonest truths underneath my fingernails. I am cringing at all the love I am losing. I miss you. Not like water, like blood. This is a poem written in one part to too many people. I need to finish dreaming.

day 356

There's so much I want to say, but I'm not allowed to on the Internet. Not for anyone, just my thoughts. When you become the void in your own body, you try to find ways to become your own god. My stomach is grumbling. Eyes bloodshot and arms limp. What am I trying to say tonight? Just wishing you a good one.

day 355

In my mother's kitchen,
the speakers are filled with the swish of rice paddy fields
and the sweet June tune of survival.

The first Cambodian song I ever heard
was my mother's battle cry.
I was seventeen,
sitting at her bedside,
nestled in between breath,
and the art of choking back tears.
This is where I first learned how to stop being a body
                                                                      an empty closet waiting to be filled with apologies.

My mother's second husband was just that.
I only remember arms strong enough to become branch
and the laughter of cicada.
Loud.
Everlasting.
What you think of when you hear summer's wind.
The twirl of hair around my mother's smile
and the subtle scent of peonies on the granite counter top.

On his drive to work,
he played his favorite song.
                     louy, louy, louy, louy
                     louy tinh snaeha
The woman sings about not being able to afford love
like it is the ax that keeps the men away from our forests.
What you don't understand about the generation before me
is that these souls watched their own sweethearts
be stripped of honey.
                           Watched their jaws unhinge and
                                          their stomachs fill with vinegar.
                           When their skulls pop open,
                            the villages ferment in blood and unsung hero.

I've never seen my mother and her friends drink red wine.
They don't celebrate the holidays with fireworks.
They like to swim.
Their bodies have become memoir of Mekong River,
lily pads,
and lotus flower.

On the Fourth of July,
I share the bed with my mother.
She asks me why I make so much noise when I move my body;
                    why my skull has become the soundtrack to the cock of a gun.

I don't reply.

She's still running away from the war.

day 354

first day of classes

I remember what I wore on my first day of grade 8. I don't even want to think about it. Think about channeling the early 90s in the almost new decade of the 2000s, the bright tights, a lot of pop punk girl bands, weird hair, but really nice teeth. In grade ten, I got braces to fix my overbite. Five months later, I had to get them removed. Not because my teeth were already fixed, but because my health insurance changed.

Today, I began my third semester of college. It's technically my second if you count the first semester. I don't. I dropped out and flew out of the country. To follow my heart. To feel cold and bitter and immerse myself in numb. I learned not feeling anything all at once is the biggest burden. You wake up in your own bed, in your hometown, and wonder what you just did. I am a huge dreamer with lips that kiss fear on the mouth. With tongue. A lot like grade 8. I am a wandering body with a new soul. I am always born again on important days. I live my life like everyday has a purpose. I will say that everyday does, but sometimes the purpose of a late morning is for being trapped in your sheets and letting your anxiety tear your flesh from the inside out. I don't know where I am going with this, but I will soon. Isn't that everyone's excuse?

day 353

How young is too young of an age to want to feel sexy?

said fifteen year old me.

This is for the broken curfews

teenage ignorance

all the fuck ups and sleep deprivation

The times I lied and told someone I've loved them

just because I didn't want them to go to bed upset

The girl I never said goodbye to

The boy I don't want to say hello to ever again

My bitter,

malleable heart.

My porcelain brittle of a soul

A spirit

Every ounce of life I lose when I sneeze

For not having big enough arms to give you home.

Distancing myself. 

Detaching. 

day 352

1
Googling "how to stop myself from hating someone I don't even know"
has become bedtime ritual.
I am trying to remove this demon.

2
I am not a body filled of turmoil
or oil spill.
The mornings I become ghastly,
I hold my breath.
Sometimes I try to stop my senses all at once.
I want to blossom
when I am stuck in my own filthy thoughts.

3
efflorescence
means to flower.
It is the state of blossoming.
Growing within yourself.
Branching out.

4 I need to grow larger than this hate.
The filth.

day 351

You say,

"do not apologize for the thoughts you have no control over."

Our fingers have always found a way to tangle--

all knot and mouth.

When we kiss

I forget how we even met.