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dia nun jauh di sana, menutur jiwaku bagaikan boneka,
hendak kuseru kemari umpama saka,
mememani malam sunyi tanpa berita.
apakah berlaku gamaknya,
adakah sudah dipunyai hatinya,
aku masih disini menanti wajahnya
termanggu dibuai mimpi bersama.
persetankan sendaloka mahupun asmara,
kalau asyik alpa & terfikir sahaja,
gah kau menjerat idea,
buatlah apa termampu untuk bahagia.
the feeling that you are never good enough or would ever be good enough for someone.
it lingers greatly with every mistake you make or mentioned that you are making. it makes you feel like crap. it crushes your confidence. it slaps you around like a bitch and then cuts you open.
i wonder how am i ever going to be good enough. to last the distance with someone. or would it only ever be a pipe dream?
no longer should i have to ponder whether it should be indiscreet.
no longer have i to worry about the discreetness of it.
it now no longer presides within my domain.
for i have the answer on this day and such discreetness shall remain.
but one can’t lose what one doesn’t own publicly.
it is pushed away deep down inside the black hole that is one’s heart.
to not be known or seen from again.
though losing it strikes one’s head like a sledgehammer & smashes your soul with pan.
the thought of it all was ideal
the setting of it all was surreal
the nature of it all was unreal
the answer of it all was an ordeal.
and now it shall remain discreet.
forever etched as a fairytale.
hopes unbound being place in thy grasp,
but thy can’t see through what thy wants so bad.
grateful on one hand it remains discreet,
but painful on the other that thy remain a dirty little secret.
……. and discreet it shall remain.
were there ever a moment where one feel they cease to exist? were there ever a moment where one feel they have been reborn? were there ever a moment where one seems to have found a sense of purpose?
those moments are always there. lingering within the stale air that we breathe in. those moments are momentarily yet permanent. those moments seems to engage explicitly yet withdraws itself excruciatingly. some flatters the occasion when it appears, others paints a bleak hour.
we toil and toil again. personifying our lost hopes and dreams. we toil and toil again, embarking on a road to recovery. paths have been opened when roads have been closed. yet it’s there, fleetingly exasperating.
sitting here on my dinner table, in this small cozy apartment i call mine. waiting for the laundry to finish. still haven’t bathe. still not hungry though the sun is falling from its peak. waiting for that fleeting moment, where all the opened paths is lighted by the nightingale.
It is the prelude played in line by the nocturne,
When heavens sings thy maiden’s name.
It is a symphony of horror and pain,
That eclipses the happiness beyond yonder plains.
Though limbs are maimed and thoughts are slained,
Heart is beating with thy name.
Bury this prelude of hollow shell in the notes of the nocturnes,
Let they words from heart be heard from thy mouth and rest shall this soul be.
For thee.
he loves his karipap sardin 