Human beings,
Akin closest to the creatures of the void,
As we consume.
Dictates of wrath falling from our hands,
Onto tablets of conversational truth.

I am conscious,
I think and do,
Still I consume too.

Leeching off the fuel writing gives me,
I run, an engine breaking through rocky walls,
Testing the boundaries of inspirational energy.
Aching with the feeling of being restrained,
Tortured by carrying,
Some few echoes of truth.

I’ve loved satin and lace for a long time, yet believed I was too rugged to enjoy such luxury. That being draped by something that feels like butter on a porcelain vase desecrates its sanctity. I was never meant for such grandeur, as I am made of stone. Coarse, menacing, and hard. Such gentleness doesn’t befit an ever-destructive chaos. I was a whirlwind romance, a cacophony of squawking ravens and crows, a relentless repetition of echoes in the caving mountains, a disastrous flair in an illicit affair.  A damsel and the prince, the one who saves her own soul from eternal damnation. Yet. I was taught softness once. How I can be a gentle breeze from the northerlies, like a lily pad floating on a laminar stream, or a dandelion fluttering in the breeze. But this softness was robbed. From me, from everything else. Returning me to the state I came to hate the most, to shy away from, to loathe and bury like a cadaver that reeked of nothing but ill intent. Which made me realize that this time there was no turning back, that I was calloused now, permanently. Transforming a learning heart into a plethora of evil and demise. A gatherer of sorrows, a charmer of guilt. A benign tumor, a tactless joke. What’s harder is that there’s no clear road to return.

smile of an exuberant child,
drowning deep in the sea.
his loquacious nature backthen,
vanished like it never existed.
ove'thinkin is not so mild,
adulthood is the reason he riled.

the sky is wet like a mouth
the light extremely fragile
bellow people keep fighting, dancing, dying
a soothing sustance, this perfume fills my nails unassuming
the real & the imaginary fuse & diffuse each other

imagination keeps you real
by chance tears feed the earth
we need the continuity of gestures
the prelude of silence foretells the foxtrot of words
a dream clarifies the windows, solidifies the doors
like a tide of awe against the void

The void,
Its emptiness, fills my sense of self with nothing
Dark , its expanse as the midnight sky
Rules my emotions, like a king
I fight with the darkness for a sweet escape,
but it tones down to just a futile try.

Come one, come all, it’s happening again
Pushing away people, as I make my descent
I walk down the dammed lane
The blood moon forming a crescent.

Tantalising thoughts howl like a wolf at the moon
The feed on my trepid soul
The darkness is devoured, a void left like a boon.
Wandering through the road, with not a goal.

A flicker of hope,
Then lends you a rope.
It beams you up, a classic Trope.
It fills your void with what you think is good,
But you drown in water like no one should.
Drowning makes me breathe again, a fresh new perspective.
Frau Trude works like an antiseptic.

Untukmu kekosongan dan kebimbangan
sudah kutulis kata demi kata
Apakah kau sudah tidur nyenyak hari ini?
apakah semua hal yang kulakukan sebanding?

Didalam istana penuh kemewahan, kemanisan
Ditawan dengan rasa kehilangan
Seolah berharap suatu hari
bagai pesawat lepas landas dan terasa lega, sebab kita telah sampai dimana
kilat sinar yang menyinarimu


2025
reydmh

In the third of the night that sent by fate
a fate never meant for me.
As you burn, I freeze,
shrouded in the blizzard of silence,
witnessing your lightning-quick decision.

Makes me stand in the heart of winter,
with void dwelling deep in my senses and breath,
I turn myself into a monument of lament and sorrow,
powerless, violated by the shadow of your touch.

Perhaps I seem calm and unshakable,
but my blood boils, giving birth to a disaster
a tornado of crimson rising in my chest,
spinning without direction, wild and untamed.

If only I had not severed these hands,
for whenever I crave to reach for you,
it would turn me into ruins of darkness,
covered in dust, with shadows nesting in the hollows of my ribcage.

Yet behind it all, a flicker still lingers.
Even if I keep severing my hands,
your warmth, your beauty will always be
the cascade of light I yearn for.
And if I rust away, this monument will stand,
a testament to your grace.