Sarah Ooi

i will paint my message in blood, on brick and dust, and the faint light from the streetlamps will illuminate it to the world. my anger will be heard across the oceans, the words swallowed by the waves, the incoherency of sound all the more terrifying. you will fear to utter my name, it will fill your mouth and choke you.

do not make this mistake.

I don’t know when this became a problem, but it’s really starting to grate on my nerves. 

I’d = I would / I had*

As in: I would do this for you, if… / I would study tomorrow, but… 

I’ll = I will

As in: I will do this for you. / I will study tomorrow. 

So, next time you’re confused, try using ‘I would’ or ‘I will’ instead of the contractions and I’m sure that’ll clear it up right away. If you’re still confused even after doing that, then I give up and you should read more. 

*But usually when people mix up I’d and I’ll they’re actually mixing up I would and I will, so I’ll ignore I had for now.

Your poetry or verse doesn’t have to be steeped in three inches of heavy, tongue-tripping words for it to be poignant or deep or meaningful. You don’t have to write in French. I suppose being all lah-dee-dah appeals to you, and you like to think you’re oh-so-whimsical and dainty - like a pixie on a feather on an eyelash of glitter.Your vocabulary is superb, I’m sure; perhaps even better than mine; but if it isn’t effective, if it has no punch, then that’s all in vain.  And get your grammar right first and learn that it’s ‘I’ll see what I can do’ and not ‘I’d see what I can do’ (except in certain circumstances).

We all have pet peeves. This is one of mine. 

Just wait. I’ll break. Or I’ll break you.

Inarticulate, tongue heavy with sticky honey,

moving to shape sounds that hang damp in the air,

liquid and wet.

This emotion is too much for my little beating heart,

my chest too small to house the tiny, relentless hands

that batter against me, inside out

The inadequacy

of words

of me

Sometimes it’s the nights that just take you. When the sun fades from view and the light retreats from your window; and far too quickly the evening turns to night. Some nights you feel alone no matter how many people you have around you. Some nights you feel alone even if you have arms, warm and heavy, wrapped around you. What can you do those nights but just squeeze your eyes and heart shut and let the seconds go ticking by? Those nights I feel paralyzed with - with anger and fear and the sheer immaturity of it all. My heart is heavy, my heart is light, I write and write and I want to sing about light and love, voice bright and unwavering, and all that passes through my lips, flows from the ink of my pen, is slow and sad and angry, always angry.

I have always been an angry child, some days I distract myself better than others.