1. |
Fade Away
04:12
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VACASIAN
I have patience in bicultural spaces.
My presence the kind to spin cocoons,
sipping water in waiting rooms,
delayed traffic in the afternoon.
These vague locations without a trace of
who I am, where i am going, who are all these faces?
I always did look golder in whiter spaces,
as the moon always looks brighter in darker places.
-
Its where I can be all light foam on the water is
surrounding my nude.
What floats is my impatient attitude,
in a reflective space with caressing hues.
In between the coast of dreams
and waking life of endless tire,
what manifested was desire,
only to be forgotten like childish prayers rooted in me.
Small seeds in my small hands.
Anything could grow
when you reap what u sow.
-
When you’re aging and asian,
alienation in intersections.
Dull vibrations in my head from thinking too much in another language
in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Check my blank passport,
stamped wrist, flashing my small figure in asian clubs,
I wait in line.
I bide my time with too much smoking and soju.
The table need more anju,
to drink the wine made from the fruit of the vines that was tangled up in my asian girl psyche.
Im that deep kinda asian thats found in translation,
no hesitation to start -that conversation-
I'm on my own Vacasian.
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2. |
Paradise
03:20
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3. |
Interlude
02:08
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4. |
Dizzy
04:18
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5. |
I Am
05:39
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travel sickness when i move lightly
__________________________________
Through asian features you might find me,
an immigrant travelling lightly over dark water while your world sleeps.
My world beeps all night with
yellow kakaotalk alerts yellow nicotine stains yellow names with curvy white pronunciations.
lights reflect onto my flat uncarved bones as I watch the same shades colour code themselves
#FFFF00
#FFFF0B
i've been here the longest.
raised to articulate in one tongue and speculate in the other
i know 오빠 doesn't translate to brother,
the real meaning lies in the gap between your ages and the power.
i know smoking in neon lit bars and binge drinking overpriced green bottles doesn't translate to my mother,
but the culture is one I am a part of.
Hazy interactions in broken conversations,
I’m asking "Do you speak english?" like a foreigner
I roll under rigid shapes of my language
and grasp for the roots of my other
in my movement between the spaces of the places that replace a home,
I never settle in one.
as my world spins nightly,
the sun in yours is burning brightly.
I have travel sickness though i move lightly.
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