to be detached: haikus

again, it haunts me.
I exist: a collection
of past histories.

to be detached here.

my brain remains stained:
a thin film of sepia, still,
coats every corner.

to be detached, here.

here: a test message.
half-assed half-fuck confession
said off the record.

to be detached: here.

I have forgotten
the foreign feeling; how to
be fine, be normal.

——–to be detached here.——–

————

My 10th post here 🙂

Filed under: Original, Poetry

by

A founding member of Singapore-based writing collective /stop@BadEndRhymes ("/s@ber"), Valen dwells in the swamp of poetry. He has been published in various publications, including Anxious Poets Society and Quarterly Literary Review Singapore. He has performed his work at the Arts House, the Singapore Art Museum, and in various dingy bars.

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