Ms. Demeanor

We roamed Chinatown with foreigners like we were their colonizers.
These track-pants don’t physically help me run away from anything
But double digits on these prices remind me I’m farther now from where I started.
Evenings and oddities
Meaningful zeroes and pseudo heroes
Old childish games with young adults.
Spark another light
Who’s the person in my cell?
Why don’t we ever tell?
This is how we fight
Trophies of unaccomplished alcoholics;
Just for double digits from the corner store
Southern district tours.
Lives we watch with deathly sunsets
Coffee beans
Crooked intentions
What do I really mean?
Street puddle reflections
Who do you really see?
Money talks loud
But then there’s me



No texts from me (nor her) tonight. Who knows what I’ll wake up to in the morning or afternoon today? Certainly not another meaningless woman or regrets from town, but that’s okay, I don’t need people or things to validate my life for me like that. High-school pettiness like that should only stay there; in fact, let’s just get rid of it altogether – let’s teach the kids how to be themselves instead and plenty more. Growing up; seeing everything, and everyone for both what they are and what they can be; I want to mean something profound to someone in the same way this city is to me. Let’s talk again when we’re on suitable wavelengths, okay?

Here’s a relevant playlist to keep you in tune with me (get it?)
Where’s the honey-dips at?



From the neck of the woods to the city’s waterfront,
looking for next ex-girl I run.
Religious rendezvous with the Moon and Sun at 5:00am;
please just tell me who I am.
Money keeps talking in here,
I’m in a hurtful relationship with my liver,
my lungs keep asking for a breath of fresh air,
my stomach growls and shivers.
It takes a city to raise a child like you and I,
our youthful blues crew just won’t die
yet it’s you who keeps driving your loved ones mad;
where’s your truth?
Don’t cry.
I held you and her down for 6 summers,
it was all for the better,
still the liquor in both of your livers only makes you two dumber.
My children lay on her thighs, her back and stomach for most nights.
I catch trains, she catches flights.
I hate the late bus-rides on this side;
it’s time for us to steal an OnzO bike.

You’ll Never Know

Those walks of shame down Ponsonby to Britomart,
Everybody’s morning sobriety was what really made me feel insecure.
I thought University would make me smarter than that;
Sure, sure, sure.
Late nights in Silo Park,
Sketchy rides back to GI,
Midnight skies and Sunrise cries
Bitch, I told you I’d make it.
Alone in a crowded festival,
Dying in the heat of the sun, the people and my stomach
but still tryin to keep my cool.
Bitch, didn’t I tell you I’d make it?
Skinny dips in her jacuzzi, on the far right side of St. Heliers’ Beach at night.
Shifts on the radio for people I thought I’d never reach.
I know you sent me.
I’m being honest, you do.
I can tell from all the bits of us I always seem to stumble across,
Yet you’re just a thorn on the side of my rose.
Tobacco slips and honey dips,
Liquor sips and chainsmoking,
Money bags and Uber lifts.
What truly matters is the expression,
but you’ll never know.
20 more minutes then 20 more,
20 more minutes and 20 more.

Only on Camera

Down in the backstreets of the City’s blood vessels and nerves,
she and I used to talk for hours about our worries and wait for the rain-showers.
She always cried when it never came.
I wanted to believe for months that we’d eventually feel the same.
Hopes of a better view than dreary bus-stops and homeless fiends,
we both eventually grew apathetic to the damage though
from all the fist-fights in the streets, crooked people and the police, empty cans, cigarettes and Red Wine-flow;
it only spelled the concluding complacency from our anger, the neglect we threw on our weekend-friends, and it ultimately predicted our ends.
Time really passes by like the people from the other side
and raindrops didn’t make it easier for us to let it slide,
but resentment stays forever if we’d never make amends.
We drove circles around each other for most nights,
Took a shot of this and that, hoping something blends
“Tear me apart already, what are you still waiting for?”
“Nothing. This isn’t a fight”
We’d sit still in a smoking room for hours, watching people come in and out of the door
“A change is gonna come sooner or later”
“I guess breaking you will be the hardest thing I’ve ever enjoyed”

Greyish Blues

On the borderline of my pride, we connected our humility again
after a year of messy progressions and cleaning myself.
The ravenous tides have stopped crashing along my living room’s couch
in the early hours of Saturday and Sunday mornings, with the stench of cheap sex.
It took us too long to acknowledge the importance of closure for our separation.
As we stumbled for months along the streets we strolled on teenage-feverish nights,
with people who were merely chess-pieces we strategically used to replace each other
and we’d alternate in taking turns at chipping away our fortitude and stronghold.
Arrogant, weren’t we?
Perhaps I was the heart-breaker my mother warned me about, but it was really you
who set my uninspired soul on fire, for a summer which seemed to last for years
and just to keep you satisfied, I hurt myself like a child running with scissors
and irrationally, I resented you for not advising me with some common sense,
but now we’re at peace again; I can’t hate you anymore,
even if I didn’t tell you everything I really wanted to…
even if you knew you were once my Moon and Sun.

Jivin’ the Voodoo Down

Moments of truth,
as we sat in your car on a hot Saturday afternoon,
I told you
“A year ago, I faced a calm before my storm…”
the calmest peace before the hungriest storm…
You look at me with an honesty in your eyes
I’ve seen it many times before in fact,
You tell me I’ve matured since then,
you’re happy for me,
and you’re proud of me.
I didn’t need your confirmation about that though.

I see clearly now,
more than ever,
how peoples’s moves create ripple effects,
like a game of chess.
I used to play so hastily.
Those rainy afternoons I spent being restless;
Those quiet nights I spent listening to music;
Those long mornings I spent without you.
Some of my fondest memories were quick moments
yet their personal significance stay timeless to me
No wonder you’re always on my mind.
Intuitive and impulsive moves make more sense
only after you’ve made them.
(My avatars exemplify that)

Here’s a personal Top-10 to let you feel and/or understand the narrative of my past few months, (and through that, perhaps you could form a narrative of my year so far too.) Let’s call this one “The Chaser’s 2nd Finale, Part III” for now, it’s to pay homage to a lot of things I’ve kept close to me, and will hopefully continue to, years and years down the line as part of my ethos, pathos and logos. (My avatars also exemplify that)


Swaying, Everywhere

Laying on my bed on a scorching Saturday; I don’t wanna waste my money this afternoon on something I could get from my friends with ease. These Bluetooth headphones better do me good though. I spent $25 on it this morning and saved the rest for tonight or perhaps the next week. Last night I saw one of your friends at a function though, we smoked a couple cigarettes and talked about how our years went. Your name came up again as usual; I keep giving her signals that we’re not exactly on good terms, nor have we been for almost half a year now, yet she carried on talking about you and she showed me this one picture of you and her in the front seat of a vintage car in Europe; I remembered how you always told me you loved those types of cars.

I asked more and more about the trip you both went to in Europe, and your friend went started narrating her personal travels there rather than your collective’s one instead. You were occasionally brought up though, she said something about a man you had a fling with in your time there.
“Ah yeah, that’s cool…” I reply to everything she said.

We went off on our separate ways for awhile that night, I saw her again an hour before my bus back home came. She saw me at a smoking room, laying my lips on a woman unknown to her; unknown to me too. I think her name was either Therese or Clarice? I couldn’t really tell the difference between the two at the time. I think it was either an accent or an intoxicated-slur? Your friend teased me shortly after I walked the unknown woman out of the Bar’s door
“Man, I didn’t think you were out here like that” She said.

I caught a few hours of sleep back home before Mum woke me up in the morning to visit a doctor concerning my illness. I was stubborn for the whole week about visiting one, but after last night’s many adventures and circles, I decided I have to be concerned about my well-being too. We went, got some prescription antibiotics, payed a few albums’ worth for them, bought my headphones from a nearby Gas Station, payed an album’s worth for it, and drove our way back home.

I jumped into the warm embrace of my bed, and let the cool wind of summertime through my window. I connected the new headphones and instinctively listened to some Bossa-Nova because I felt as though it just fit the ambiance of my bedroom and the day so far. I tried to let those Tenor Saxophones, melodic Piano keys and light Classical Guitars put me to sleep. I thought about you once more before that though; even on the car ride to the doctor, and the car ride back home too.

I thought about that picture of you in that vintage car in Europe which your friend showed me the night before; you looked so positive in that picture, with a radiant glow in your smile which I hadn’t seen in awhile. You were happy, and it took me awhile to recognize it for myself but I was happy for you too. I remembered only a fraction of what she told me about your fling with that man in Europe, but it didn’t linger on my mind much this time. You were happy, and as your friend, or someone who was your friend, that’s something I would’ve wanted for you too.

I took off the headphones to save its battery and charge it for later. I turned over to my vinyl player beside my bed to try play something else instead, but it was unplugged so I either had to disconnect my phone’s charger or my electric-fan to get it working. I couldn’t choose which one had to go from the two, nor did I have enough energy to plug and unplug cords from the power-socket, so I thought to myself some things are better off left unsaid and not done,; I made my peace and quietly slept myself away for the afternoon with the wind and the heat.

“When she walks she’s like a samba that
Swings so cool and sways so gently…”



Lacuna, Onwards

South of the border of my fingertips, there I made peace with you; not because you mean anything to me anymore, but more so because it’d mean something to me now. Digging through wooden crates before Saturday, it’s not liquor that I’m looking for; I’m looking for some memorabilia for this year instead, I seem to have forgotten a lot recently. I just need a reconnect before my sickness turns terminal.

Making friends with the gatekeepers who used to kick me out and deny me entry. Making new friendships with women I thought I’d never see again. Making relations with my city and its artists. Breathing underwater, hoping my lungs don’t mess up now. The beach’s sand in my hair or the shampoo burning my eyes; this afternoon’s rain reminds me of my innocence more than my sorrows.

I always hated how my brothers rolled their windows down as we would drive down the waterfront on a cold, rainy, late night. I’d always be in the backseat, attacked by the continuous gushes of icy winds. I hope my children experience that with their brothers though, it’ll be a good character building exercise. They don’t have to be inherently related through blood either. It wasn’t exactly like that for me anyways.

I sound like I’m dying with each passing day, and a dry-cough which won’t die down despite the weeks worth of medication I’ve taken. I haven’t gone senile though. I’m not celebrating my life nor am I foreshadowing my eventual death; if anything, I’m celebrating my arrival, and foreshadowing my arrivals after that.