The Day’s Attempts

by Winston Widjaja Lin


Speechlessness demands to be verbalized.


Hand sanitizer can’t cleanse the heart’s woes.
Antidepressants: an option for the woes instead.
Sushi lunchbag gives me solace.
Hymn for my pain, please sound now.
Maybe I’m in the middle of a breakdown.
How can I prevent it?


Despair, be expunged from me.


endless pounding pavements
towards prayers I wish to be named in.

What must I present to receive pity?
A rained down, wilting body?
Constant display of feebleness?
Never ending falls to the ground
to the middle instead of an end?

Abstractions, perhaps, serve you.

I don’t know what else to say anymore.
But I keep trying anyway.