excruciating disgust boiling inside push down into my wounds bleed myself dry because i am but a weak man with no spine looking above spit dripping down my lip salt excreted out of my pores gasping for the strength to melt away i cry at night rotting away because i’m not right misused and disregarded i am the rotten apple when you picked me you were mistaken because you didn’t check the other side
I stood in the meadow Looking towards the window A picture emerged I knew what it was Yet I couldn't decipher I moved towards the window The picture did grow A painting of a lush green meadow It was hanging on the wall No one standing At the window No one standing In the meadow Cows were missing Birds were missing In the meadow She was missing At the window Missing were so many things I was on the fringe In the middle of the meadow Dry and burnt meadow Looking towards the window She was missing At the window
I dry, you are the rain that flushed my body. And we are fertile land with loose soil. Then feelings grew in it. Under the heavens I pray, that I will be strong enough to hold you back any longer, so that you won't disappear or come home at any time.
Love is the harvest of feelings that can make us survive in a bad season, before actually coming, after we're really cooked.
Indonesia, 23rd December 2021 Arif Aditya Abyan Nugroho