To wake upon missing you
By kevin martens wong zhi qiang
originally published friday, 18 april 2025
on tigri sa chang
Koitadu | Content warning
Please first read about my writing in the Skribadorang or Writing section on the Igleza page here before reading the piece below so you have advance warning about the rather spicy things that I often like to write about, and why I choose to write about them, especially in terms of subverting unhealthy stereotypes about gay people, Kristang people, Creole people, Indigenous people, masculinity, neurodivergence, the body, healthy forms of attraction and sexuality, and using my writing to process the severe individual, collective and inter-generational trauma and abuse I have faced across my life.
is still the worst possible pain
in the world.
But if it helps you
I know it matters
more
than whether
I myself feel
I was ever
worth my weight
in dreaming gold
for what in the flying fuck does it matter
to know
I am a god
if you, too, are not free?
What does it matter
to try to change the world
if I am doing it alone
and if you, too,
are not able
to reclaim your own
liberating eternity?
So I take away my own power.
I destroy my own works.
I let myself
fall apart
and be seen
for what I truly am worth:
just a single,
fragile, delicate,
fearlessly ever-reblooming flower
still so very afraid to be alone.
Still so very afraid to know
who I really am:
someone who will do literally anything for you
and who I will keep every dreaming promise to
even it means
we never ever
see each other
ever again.