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
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