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Kayla Burke Oct 2022
& so my nightly routine begins...

1.) I turn on my unreleased Lana Del Rey mixtape
2.) light my last cigarette
3.) turn off the lights
4.) crawl into my unmade bed
5.) cuddle up to my favorite stuffed animal
6.) and I begin to cry

7.) then finally... sleep comes for me.
8.) & the nightmares begin.
the traumatized girl puts herself to sleep the same way every night. comforting? i'd disagree.
birdy Jun 2022
She longed for his lips
instead the only thing she kissed
was her seventh cigarette
D A W N Jun 2022
i lit my cigarette like a birthday candle
and i wished for your name
through my puffed up coughs
and bleary eyes
this job ***** but atleast i met new n cool ppl ;ppp
D A W N Jan 2022
a stick
will keep
my thoughts
of you
-im hungry
Here I am sitting
on my comfortable chair
enjoying my new years eve
smoking cigarette
and reading Zarathustra.

This is my first poem
in 2022!
Indonesia, 1st January 2022
Arif Aditya Abyan Nugroho
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
SF Couture Dec 2021
The staining aroma we so avidly inhaled in the reign of night
At tables made of glass that reflet the moonlight
The faint white illumination lit our misdeeds of younger
Keeps me reminiscent of days of simpler

Plagued & blessed by lack of consideration
No respect for damnation
We lived without hesitation to be free
To feel we truly needed to be

I sit alone now inhaling what was once shared and sought-after
Feeling but trying not to think-of those days of before
Watching storms roll through, making me feel spectator to memories of more
I retreat into myself, knowing those days are over

I could never imagine I'd look back on those days and call them simpler.
I keep running from what i can't see and it's lead me in circles
Cycle through the times to get to the next
A person watches a passing storm and reminisces over then and now
I am holding
my last cigarette
and sitting.
Reading my favorite novel,
Vanity Fair.
Pouring the wine.
I used to drink all the night
with some friends
that nobody knows about them.
The poem was written after,
the ***** poem.
They told me
sometimes my poem was about it.
It was too late to say
that the things they only have
is about ***** mind.
Indonesia, 3rd November 2021
Arif Aditya Abyan Nugroho
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