so preciously fleeting; these clumsy words just won't do.oh, to immortalise a moment.
a journey through sinusoidal emotions, schizophrenia, and gut-wrenching beauty. a sound unheard, slicing through your consciousness like a sharp knife.
because with every promiseand every goodbyeand every person you loveand everywhere you go you grow just a little bit wiser.
I usually write during extremes of emotion, when I’m manic or depressed or schizophrenic or serene to the point of tears. To me, poetry is more than a collection of pretty words and imagery. They are confessions, expressions of gratitude, self-realisations.
It’s sort of like a moonrise. Sunsets are striking and eye-catching – brilliant hues preluding the onset of darkness. But the moonrise can be beautiful too, in a quiet, contemplative, melancholy sort of way.In this collection, I'm trying to capture the magic in scribbled notebooks and dusty old drawers. Late nights, heavy heads and heavier hearts. The lonely heart-wrenching beauty in pain. The enchanting irrational eternity of perfection. After all, the music of memories is the only thing that lasts for eternity.
a journey through sinusoidal emotions, schizophrenia, and gut-wrenching beauty. a sound unheard, slicing through your consciousness like a sharp knife.
because with every promiseand every goodbyeand every person you loveand everywhere you go you grow just a little bit wiser.
I usually write during extremes of emotion, when I’m manic or depressed or schizophrenic or serene to the point of tears. To me, poetry is more than a collection of pretty words and imagery. They are confessions, expressions of gratitude, self-realisations.
It’s sort of like a moonrise. Sunsets are striking and eye-catching – brilliant hues preluding the onset of darkness. But the moonrise can be beautiful too, in a quiet, contemplative, melancholy sort of way.In this collection, I'm trying to capture the magic in scribbled notebooks and dusty old drawers. Late nights, heavy heads and heavier hearts. The lonely heart-wrenching beauty in pain. The enchanting irrational eternity of perfection. After all, the music of memories is the only thing that lasts for eternity.
Vivian Tong, Y13c
