I might not be the same girl like all those girls you've dated before. I don't dress like others. I have no common taste. I talk thoughtfully. I choose words wisely.

You might not be the first one I have adored. Yet all this time I've been relying on plain amazement of loving without being loved in return. No one has intension to love me.

I am so melancholic. I spent my teenage phase being suicidal. My 16 to 19 times I spent beint attempted to die. I am not afraid of bloods that burst out from my wrist. I don't mind spending days just for crying.

I used to be the outspoken one. But life has its ups and downs and eventually it changed me a lot. I guess I was born to suffer not to survive. That's why I became depressed all the time.

Dear, you know I care or not at all. You've tried nothing, I am just falling. And the more I fall, the more I'm afraid of getting the unbearable pain I can't fathom.

I'm not ready to be drowned once more, crying all my tears away, shouting and yelling to the silence, pulling down my sadness to the utmost.

Dear, I'm just not ready for this. I get myself wrong. Shall I tune a farewell and say good bye all along?

this morning the road collapsed
and it let the cosiness trapped

the traffic got insane,
the siren mocking among the lane
people screaming with blood on their faces
their joy was so close into ashes

it was a Christmas morning
a saddening mourning,
of those whose smiles disappearing

today a car crashed into the tree
on an attempt to avoid a catastrophe

the passenger got injured so bad
her entire body bleeding red
but the driver stayed fine
he even asked for a wine

........................................

I followed a boy on his impromptu journey to the forest (or at least what I once thought it was).

he walked with a nonchalant disposition without saying any word. his gestures demonstrated it all.

it’s ludicrous that I reluctantly stepped forward to the vast and dense forest in front of me. I was not scared at all. I discovered amity within the zigzagging branches and peace in this endless labyrinth.

and after a long and intense journey, the dazzling sunlight captures his figure: his tanned skin was wrapped by falling leaves, laying down at the top of the rock (in which I always wonder to see what he’s dreaming).

for once in my life, never have I thought silence could be so much pleasing as that.

Last night I was shivering
I owned sorrow as mine
You came forward filling the night
Within unseen kisses and hugs

The silence mocked
The pain knocked
What seemed so right turned wrong
What has provoked slowly revoked

You once told me to be brave
Just to obey what has taught me
And what has ruled and created me
I'm no one to be, no one to be

Darling, I've seen tiredness in your eyes
And the hiding grim behind your smiles
Let me wound the sadness for you
So will I weep the scars that gnaw you

We afford too much sore to cope
And wandering too much for home
We've forgotten, we've been untold
That we have each other to hold.

My love, we should've known to whom we belong.

Feb, 12 2016.
09:51 pm
I'm quite insane.

Surrounded by serenity
Me, standing here
Watching the heroic you
With your wavy hair
And your sunglasses
You are very stunning

You sit there
So innocent
I go through your little eyes
Imagining your soft lips
Curiosities jemmy me
I am starting to be silly

I do chew the gums
You are still busy with your watch
Out of the blue the gums bite
Because you have to go with your wife
And I furiously lose one's heart
So, should I call it the precious havoc?

I have my eyes closed

I find it dim right way
Here, for you I may pray
Or at least, I try to say
I try to find place to lay

I have my eyes closed

I solemnly choose good words,
Sentences and proper phrases
To poetically picture the aches
That fade me to ashes

I have my eyes closed

My mouth keeps murmuring
And the mind can't stop arguing
What if it might be nothing
Nothing helps to keep believing


Jan, 20 2016

My eyes are closed still.

i make love to the ocean
in the morning sailors watch me cuddling with the waves
so noisy, we palpitate the massive rises and downs,
travel thousand miles till we reach the distant inland.

we find no clue where we belong.

i kiss the sunlight
in the twilight we beguile in silence
exploring the ocean of nakedness;
the pale pain and long-lost sorrow
as the choir of seagulls dancing upwards.

we forget how we become afar.

i greet the limitless darkness
with a pair of eyes half-closed,
and a restless soul that longs for home.
so we unite, the sea and I
as nothing matches the golden slumber.

and we become one.

it is rather exhausted
to lose sight of identity
day by day wondering
the reflection seen by eyes

when the mind is burdened
and the heart is parched up
the soul will soar above the sky
never remember to come back

it is rather difficult to handle
and fathom the agony
of seeking the soul
and losing the consciousness

when the silhouette painted
is vague and no longer seen
people remain it unseen
and will forget it in days

it is rather a burst of goodbye
and I think
it is simply considered as the death

yesterday my thoughts lost in the pines
i heard a rustling of leaves crooned
the sunlight sheepishly trespassed between the thick branches
and I stepped forward, and I slipped
then I stood up seeing the hollow
it was left ajar
although undeterred, I was afraid
of uncertainties thrilling my veins
suddenly my body flitted like water roaming in a drainway
my mouth spoke an unknown language
of pain
and ache
unfamiliar faces cherished my appearance
it was vague, not that dim
and they said I was born.

As you walk through the past
You still can see our footsteps
Marked on the sands
Within the sea shells,
The pebbles, and the coconuts
Beneath the clouds
Painted in the summer sky

As you walk through the past
You still can hear our laughs
Being sung by the birds and leaves
Coming out as melodies
And they steer the wind
And they make the green grass
Dances they old tributes

As you walk through the past
You still can feel the wind
Brings the smell of my hair
The strawberry from baby shampoo
And it touches your gentlest soul
And it tenderly chills your sanity
And it impulsively ***** your reality

"This country is getting so much sickening." said you, while kept holding my body tight.

I told you that our country was not a peaceful place to spend the rest of our lives in. The moral panic and all those prejudices towards marginalized people were beyond words to describe.

"We're not running out of tolerance, we're having lack of literacy, our nation is." said you.

You told me that people should maintain their interest to read books as well as to publicly share their own point of views.

I murmured quietly that it just what it usually was, since the year of Our Prophet was born into this ****** kind of hell aka world.

You closed your eyes gently. I always love seeing your eyes closed. I felt peace in me. It was quiet great to know this kind of feeling exist.

And after all we spent the rest of our times talking about our worries about the future of our country, and the fear of our own future. Yet, some quiet time also spent to tease me talking about my favorite lipstick shades. You said I was a fool for collecting all those stupid make-up kits, so was I. You were right.

We discussed anything except our own certainty. Because the uncertainty we possessed is what keeps us alive.

"Let me hug you."

I said nothing but hugged you even more.

At least I could feel your heartbeat. The life in you, was what amazed me, and still amazes a little soul inside of me.

You should know, with no word to say, all in me murmurs quietly, how mesmerizing it is knowing you are here.

Love is deceiving: that it can put you into a chaotic hurricane of misfortune yet you will keep being so blindly lucky.

Love is manipulating: that sometimes it becomes an ultimate tool for a person to politically dominates you. It mops your own self-authority.

You'll eventually become controlled. You'll be owned, you'll be toyed, that the presence of yourself means nothing more than just a belonging brought along.

Love is voracious: that it always makes you so greedy for affection, and craving more than just attention.

As the things don't go straight forward with your wish, and you don't get what you hardly need, you'll be left suffocated. You'll gamble your very lack of happiness only to be evaporated.

Love is lonesome: that every night, it will let you so sleepless, envisioning to a constant uncertainty which frustrates you to the utmost.

There will always be a constant battle in your mind that will dig the hollow so deep beyond the control. You'll soon use to the clattering cries and more simultaneous tears evoked.

But the good thing, it will sharp your melancholic soul elegantly: so exquisite that you'll paint your feelings in a train full of letters.

You'll possess the ability to bewitch gibberish into an excruciating enchantment for the woeful lovers. Those are the one whose joy are scattered to a blow of ashes.

- April, 24 2018, 02:23 AM.

A lizard came by to say hi,
I could see it posing on my ceiling
as if it dropped by only to tease me
because I have never left the house
unless to work.

What should I leave the house without meeting you?

Moving its tail nonchalantly,
it seemed to know that I was staring at it.
As the night went by, one grew into dozens,
and a group of lizards formed an alliance to mock my very existence.

Tormenting lizards sneered at me so graciously.
So voiceless in silence.

I slept in the morning dew, with the palpitating joy on the seashell eyes, laying beside me.

He engulfed the mess beneath my faint soul. I was merely wretched, he rescued me from the chaotic self of mine.

We were fleeting ones, sailing in the ocean of grasses. We succumbed to the force of reality. We escaped the excruciating fate of each other constantly.

We pledged for an eternal gaiety: a golden slumber, in which we would eventually found place for our non-adhering spirit.

Thus that early dawn, we stopped glancing, as our bodies trembling little by little until they ceased.

I appeared that one random day some years ago when the stars were galloping.

since then each step I take picturesque the clip I've been rolling.

I remember that day when mom told me that to live was to encounter a blessing and struggling was the way we inherit a trophy for generations that lived.

I was deceived by the unrealistic heroism of many martyrs who died before me.

in fact, the spotlights were not meant for me as I expected. fate put me far removed from any truth I’ve worshiped.

some days I move in urge and fly very high. I heal my wounds and forgive people who randomly get me to taunt.

some days I scream without words and get drowned in my own nightmares. I drop death thinking of any chance to collect my own mythical strikes.

after all, I still reopen my eyes to a bizarre sight; I wonder if it is the answer to all the prayers I've murmured in my solemn nights

or perhaps it is just the doom I've been daydreaming about all the time.

of the truths spoken and the marks of my barefoot steps, I pledge for an eternal gaiety. And a place of my own kind.

I remember it was cold and quiet. We stood up beneath the scattering stars.

Silently staring at the landscape outspread in front of us, where the mountain touched the sky.

Losing count on the steps taken, you wondered how many dreams townspeople had to reach the summit tower seen from afar;

Spreading lights randomly with no purpose to guide. Little yet arrogant. Like a candlestick being put on the top of the world, accidentally.

Or maybe, incidentally placed to embody the messiah for those who would discover it that way — which might be peculiarly irrational.

Despite the lame fact, it still mesmerized you. I just knew the moment your starry eyes were seen in the dim night. And out of the blue, it captivated me too.

We sneaked from the despotic night, releasing laughs from the deepest and most untouched alley in our lungs. Our fears were freed.

Nonchalant towards the thing ahead of us, even to the time that felt prematurely withered.

"I remember once this priest brought hope to our house, and we just followed him since then", you said. That’s how you told me that miracle wasn’t the thing that kept us living, but hopes that enlightened.

Unyielding lost in the most chaotic ecstasy I have ever encountered. It became that moment when a knock on the door wouldn’t be able to break our reverie.

Modest. Humble.

We then walked unafraid through the open door that led us to the home where the sun rises.

it was raining and I played nocturne
there was the time when I knew you were my tune
to every single melody I composed
each of them kept blooming like a rose

with you, I was brought to a solemn admiration
and an overflowing sentimental emotion
with you, I thought I found guidance
and an utter chance to change

I thought we'd prepossess a rhapsody
and whirled being nocturne
I guess I might execute errancy
love, you said you weren't certain

today, as the love keeps beguiling me
with selfishness towards yourself
I can't cease to adore
and begin having no help

today, the agony sets its own tune
and I guess I may call it nocturne.

She sat in the old cafe
she used to spend hours with someone
who left her years ago
she kept glancing at the window
with pen in her mouth and papers
thoughtfully looked for something poetic
to describe her disappointments

She had a cup of tea
and a slice of apple cake
because someone told her wisely
not to have too much caffeine
and she laughed at herself halfheartedly
in such a melancholy nostalgia

she traveled to the past
and she smiled, showing a grim
remembering the way they carved forever
within their jokes and their laughs
or even how she whirled within his heart
and she eventually thought it was enough
to dive down more into a nostalgia

She sat in the old cafe
she used to spend hours with someone
who left her months ago
she kept glancing at the window
with pen in her mouth and papers
thoughtfully looked for something poetic
to describe her disappointments

She had a cup of tea
and a slice of apple cake
because someone told her wisely
not to have too much caffeine
and she laughed at herself halfheartedly
in such a melancholy nostalgia

she traveled to the past
and she smiled, showing a grim
remembering the way they carved forever
within their jokes and their laughs
or even how she whirled within his heart
and she eventually thought it was enough
to dive down more into nostalgia

My life is all about
Black or white
It is just about
Right or wrong

The choices i've made
Either sharp or dull
All my life i've been waiting
For something bad or good

Life is just a way long or too short
Mistakes are either huge or little
There's always one or two
And there's none of more

Dec, 13 2015.

Maybe, when rain comes
dancing over the death of sunshine
The memories will slowly dance
Within the rhythm along the street
As dim and dark as the dying truth
And its trepidation.

Dec, 16 2015.

What do I love most about life? Perhaps the ability to cook explains all.

So, after our pretty laid-back meetings filled with lame jokes and modest talk about dreams, I offered myself to cook.

"I hate it", he said the moment I told him how much I love to cook shrimp.

It was ironic to discover that each of us loves what others dislike, and vice versa — or maybe, I am the only one feeling that way.

But then, he inexplicably enjoyed the meal. So voraciously. That I thought he did that for the sake of impressing.

Days roll into weeks, weeks into months, and I was still serving the same thing he could barely enjoy. And he eventually got low-key to that.

I was thinking whether he did that for the sake of adapting. It reminded me a bit of how acceptance is much glorified these days. And I was so grateful.

I even wanted to serve my heart for him.

I would gladly do that.

I never meant to run
You never meant to hurt
Neither of us never mind to do that

You said it was just too okay
I guess none should be alright
How could you just keep your eyes shut,
While in the same time one begins to die?

You would never care
For I never stop to try
You would never realize
Unless I keep away and hide


Darling, that's how i ran away
Dont look for me even for awhile.

Dec, 23 2015.
I'm done with you.

To the child I can't mother;
don't be too smart. At this age, you don't need 1,000 to count the stars.
You don't need pronouns to define what you are. Happiness defines who you are.
A happy person, I wish you become.
I don't mind you causing a headache,
remember when I read you about nations,
and you asked why countries exist to rule?
Little pumpkin, I can't believe I'm raising an anarchist, how funny is that?
I want to take you to walk the beach at sunrise.
You are probably sleeping, so I'll carry you in my arms.
We can study the peebles and find a perfect spot to lie down,
I can smell Johnson's on your hair and the dream you had last night.

We kissed us
A fine windy evening
So warm and gentle, yet thrilling
We grasped, we held, we touched

It felt quite eloquent
We tasted each other bitterness
And sensed each pain we had
We mourned, we grieved, we gnawed

We had our eyes slightly closed
Time's told to stop ambling
The universe dropped dead
As goddesses were gazing

We kissed us
We collated each other laxity
We created another rhapsody
We possessed as we became one

Jan, 28 2016.

You, a prepossessing rhapsody
beguiling in a sincere
bursting my day with melody
though you are in a silence

It's such a pleasure to hold
you, within an utter buoyancy
with you, I am literally told
not to rely on certainty


You, a vivid exquisite
I admiringly adore
with such a solemnity.