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Every direction is unclear.
Every move is uncertain.
I'm lost. I'm trapped.
There is no escape.
There is no ending in this maze of life.
I was woken up by a nightmare.
I woke up in the middle of the night
when I had fallen asleep
and a poem was finished.
The silence makes the painting 
in the air I breathe,
feel heavy, feel suffocating.
My throat is dry.
And on such a thirsty night,
a poem ordered an inkbox
and a piece of paper,
and I ordered a bottle of beer
and a cigarette and also a lighter,
and night ordered

itself for me.
Indonesia, 29th December 2021
Arif Aditya Abyan Nugroho
There is still hope
to escape from
    the nightmare
that haunts the wild nights,
I had been spending all night by writing those feelings
on the cold
       and damp walls,
and I think that we are one of those who need
warmth in love and life.

And here I think
that the poems let me speak
for those who have no voice.
Indonesia, 21st December 2021
Arif Aditya Abyan Nugroho
I'm a foreigner
at the crossroads
what you see from a distance
wave hands
say hello to you.
I've been confused
ever since stand alone in the crowd,
no one sees me
except for a pair of eyes
that is lodged in people's heads
which I never knew before;
and the clouds turn blue but don't hurt flowing right over the head
then the birds rise expel the wind
who had tossed my long hair.
I just stare at them,
hope they don't look at me.
However, the world suddenly stopped. And my world seems to have a limit
to transcend isolation.
I'm a foreigner
at the crossroads,
which has been left behind by old memories,
and when the new comrades have become adept at reading signs,
and therefore we have bonded
like a relationship
that we are not really aware of.
I'm a foreigner
at the crossroads,
greet you as a stranger too,
but now everyone is busy making their own festival,
and don't ask,
I make a festival for whom,
except for the day
when I'm not known anymore.
Indonesia, 30th November 2021
Arif Aditya Abyan Nugroho
I watch her.

I watch her,
as the night drapes over her window,
as the stars tangle in her hair,

I watch her,
as the chiseled imperfection
of the moon stirs her inky musings,

I watch her ,
in the uncertain glow of the dying candle,
in the torrent of tattered thoughts,

I watch her,
watching me through the silver-smeared glass,
through the pits of colourless brown,

                                      I watch her as                           
                                   ­            she slowly traces the silence,
                                                        ­           silencing the traces of him.

I put to thee labors to mine love finally achieve
To thy heart I not to be a name demand,
Not to face the oblivious waves, not to be brief,
Dare not to mine soul erase as thy waves treat the poor sand,
I want to pierce thy shell I want to be a thief,
But mine barriers to thy trials will still stand.
I am not a little Satan nor am I a saint,
I was to thy pilgrims their miserable end,
Only I deserve to have thy pearly hand,
As mine winds go mad to thy smile, they faint,
But to thy ship, they won't help nor find thee any land
Use thy heart, thou might notice mine scent.

To thy doubts, thou wish they are right,
But I am not a one able to say.
Maybe if thou art in mine near sight,
mine thoughts of thee may reach the day.
Keep hiding mine sun, but no use it's so bright,
To mine love, thy hope is tracing a leaked ray.

Since I am no Prometheus, I will let thee freeze
Find thy fire and to mine labors do not cease
I will do no more and to mine affairs I will head,
Thus, thy trails do never reach an end,
Never reach mine light, nor to thee will I bend,
Not even with thy smile, no more heart shred.
tw suicidal fantasy

This is the last time
The knife will never again leave its drawer
Not after tonight
Not by my hand

I’ll take it out
Unsheathe the tool of my end
I just... I just wanna...
Hold it against my skin

There will be no restraint
Not this time
I’ll dig it in as deep as I can bear
Tear a horrible **** in my arm

I wanna feel the agony
Watch myself bleed out
Until it gets foggy
Until the room starts to sway

Then, I can lay myself down
One last time.
Ugh... my heart aches for an end...

dw I’ve contacted suicide prevention
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