4pm in a Wednesday room
While everyone works
I break into this internet
Hear Leonard Cohen
And his Hallelujah
Friends overseas
Talk about candid things
The a/c drips
Turn it off
This screen gleams
There is no air
Shut the windows
Still forlorn
Little by little
I feel the wound
At my back
On the cheap chair
Of monotony
All the odds
Bite like mosquitoes
They are everywhere
It is reality
When you reflect
You see the meaning
It is difficult to mask
Truth is stronger
You smile but frown
You laugh but weep
These blisters upset
They injure our perfection
(written on September 7,2011 Singapore)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem