Ever since that Michelin Star fiasco that denied me my neighbourhood comfort food, I have been on a little quest scouring nearby eateries for some cheap and good meals. And I believe I found a pretty decent replacement for now. A Thai hawker stall inside Golden Mile Complex serving various Thai dishes including pork collar rice which is slowly growing on me. It's on the first floor between the Thai supermarket and the overhead bridge opening. Stall sells coconut ice-cream too. So if you are into fat chewy porky ...er... pork bits, this is good. Yah, that's a very generous serving of white rice. Little too much for me.
Don't celebrate Halloween. Never have but since it's around the corner. I came up with this short poem a couple days ago.
What The Children See
I remember the warmth, I remember the cold
The seasons come, the seasons go
Who still stands in the shadows?
Only the children know
They pass me in the hall, they never hear my screams
There is no one near when I cry and blaspheme
They play in the room with the colorful toys, so chaste so carefree
From the corner of their eyes, I know the children can see me
What has become of me, only the darkness remembers
The questions are forgotten, the answers lost in slumber
Nothing left but mere ashes, bones and a tooth
Bless the children for they see not the truth
They hear my whispers, they slither in the dark
The flesh I grasp, they leave a pretty mark
I recite the eldrith vows so ancient, foul and appalling
Under their blanklets they hide, the children all silent and cowering
Doors open in the dead of the night, stairs creak with no one is sight
It has been too long since they had guests overnight
After the dread comes the chill so wicked and grim
The time has come for the children to scream
See their lithe bodies fly across the room, little limbs ever flailing
Down the stairs the parents wait, huddled together and loudly wailing
Along comes a man of the cloth, clutching his silver cross
If he knew what the children saw, all his prayers will be at a loss
I wonder whatever could have caused him to abondon all hope
Was it my twenty scratches that sent him fleeing down the slope
It's time for the sun to rise, I believe someone must pay the price
A new day dawns, a parent or a child, who shall make a sacrifice?
Now they see me in every mirror, standing so silent and solemn
How they beg me to leave, their open pleads I scorn and condemn
All their precious are packed and ready to leave, if only they had time to grieve
Other children will one day come, will they be the ones I finally forgive?