– Raisa Cheng

A spinning head, the object I feel installed above the

Fragile bones of my flailing neck. Inside there is a continuous

Cycle of trains, on their round-trip routes from here to there,

Non-stop from the edges of delight to the brink of

Existence. My heart beats loudly, the eccentric beat

Endangering the hollow halls of my ear canal. This time it’s no

Different from when the organ’s voluptuous voices took away

Each passing breath. Usually when one continues towards a

Downward spiral, a sense of caution is released,

Yet for me, the dizzy spell of my demise did not faze me whatsoever.

I enjoyed what became of the changes, the love and loved one,

Coming and going, more going than coming. Often times, it’s

Difficult to understand when and how the story became so

Complicated, intertwined in a malicious web of pros and cons.

Not knowing is an understatement, not understanding could very

Well provide explanation why innocence was something I used to

Hold onto, until it became a non-entity. The faces and facades that

Used to illuminate the dark pathway, was a candle blown out by

Quite a strong wind, and eventually faded away. Are these entities of

Heightened importance? While they used to be, they are no more,

Perhaps just a little, but not quite as much. Desires fade away like

No other, like a dying tree in the autumn gardens, so beautiful as it

Falls to its expected death. If desires fade quickly, what, if anything,

Can be trusted? What, if anything, should one follow?