Hi there! Thank you so much for spending your time and checking out my page. Have fun reading my work!
My name is Daniel Ashraf Teo. I am part Chinese, part Malay, and part Indian. My great grandad is from New Jersey, which gives me American blood, too, I think.
Before I start my writing of controversy that might trigger buttsore trump supporters, I would like to mention that America was pretty messed up under the “ruling” of Donald Trump, one of the most questionable presidents in US history. …
There’s this twinge of silence and emptiness as if it almost didn't belong, a 20 down the road and the creaking of misplaced floorboards and mahogany doorknobs —
a silent yet resilient pushing against the wind, the inertia that lies in the same plane but seen in different…
It's seven in the morning, the sun’s up
and it stays that way
The bright golden ball
the blue shimmering waves
and the cold night that challenges the folds of my shirt
the aircon buzzes with the peeling of the ceiling fan
and the champagne bottles from last night in a…
The dressing table is fastened within the skeleton of the photo album,
and each page was a new reflection to see my own numbing winter
Now, these images ought to see through the velvet, blood-red amalgam
They say to smile a little — but then don’t look through these filters
There he was. Plopped onto the very rigors of brick that held him onto the pulls of the universe. There was nothing between them but the silent whispers of the wind, flying through the knitted sweater and condensed into none but cold dust. …
The hueing numbers on the clock whisper in uncontained fervor,
Yet the moon and the sky move no further;
The tremors of the grass swept bed have left me in a rhapsody,
Now the folding of the pillow beckons me behind bloodcurdling agony.
Where I espy them from across the…
Be your own hero, be your own savior, send all your suffering into the fire. Let no foot, mark your ground, let no hand, hold you down.
— Patrick Wolf
And there he was
plucked from the bed of thorns and yanked into
Another carpet of sin and anything that…
Like the wind that gusts me away from the groundwater
reduced to foreign dust and neglected weather
and the pages of the book that never seemed to go
as the stifling dew from the grass withers
It ought to be known to me,
before I was struck away…
She loved reading. It allowed her to cry over someone’s sadness when she could no longer identify her own.
— Nina Park
Then the canvas is ruined over by your blood
the painting is abandoned from the chains yet so free
tears washing up the sandless shores and lush plains
I have been…