Eid Mubarak.

May you be showered by blessings of loved ones, and also from the Al-Mighty.

Selamat Hari Raya Aidilfitri.

:)

Ga Ga Gu Gu.

You did it, anyway.
I didn't need to compare.

Should I have just responded in a different manner,
just to build a superficial form of pleasure,
to think that I hold the manipulation of sweet venge,

just to hide the fact that I was the loser.

I found out that I was heart broken,
when she told me so.

When I see you as a depiction of cowardice,
I cried so badly,
I lost control.



Take it,
go away, and never come back again.

Skip like Dorothy Not.

I wonder if the floor fathoms your idea of such embodiment.
Skipping like Dorothy hardly made sense to the context sipped within the wooden planks, plastered walls and dusted frames of promotional. If there's any that would subscribe to it, it might only be minimal.

It failed to be part of the mise en scene.
Brushing shoulders of the fact that you were trying to blend in for an easier outcome of a two way communication.

Fact is, I love it when you intrigued us with your imagination, conveyed by words. The light I used to see when you lead us to a certain expectation of various levels and dimension, it was where I had a sensation of having my spine synapsified. It was like a mental ripple that I was struggling to cope with, yet, never the search has halted.

I never skipped like Dorothy.

But I'd thank you for having us all transferred into a supposed frame of artwork.

Bagpipes.

Remind me as you tap my shoulder,
as you left pale petals on my bedside,
as you I came into picture when you used my line.

Remind me as you whistled a random tune,
as it flashes to you how clumsy I'd become,
as you heard my silent chills tickle your spine.
(yes, I intend to have them sent)

Remind me like how I used to do it to myself,
as you paint walls with new colours,
as you dance in joy, I once witness,
and as you drop by and say Hello.

Remind me of who you are,
what was the past,
and those that stay true, still.

A gentle one will do.

Weaving......

Oh yes, I might have that ability, hidden and yet to be explored.
It would be nice, I thought,
to have a pick of your choice,
just that its not a video shop you entered,
they were - beautiful, lucid still images.

And I anticipated before I roam into the black space.



x x x



I was half awake when it rang.
Yes, it was unlikely, but it was conditioned on the night before.
Over and over I tried to cut off the patterns of repetition,
in the end, I bounced in shock,
as I thought the repetitions had accumulated an outstanding price to pay.




Nah.




In fact, it was a dream of resent that I was stuck in.
It was bitter, it was a struck.
A song of melancholy starts to sing in my head.




Oh hey,
wasn't it supposed to be tapirs to be weaved?
What was that all about.
What had I weaved myself into.

Fail ni.

Stifled Platform 8.

No more than the last moment it tried - to speak,
She broke down onto four, on the ground,
trying to balance herself in one piece.

Was it too much of a strain, that she had been holding on,
clinging on so tightly,
...no,
she had let herself absolute power to her feelings, to her senses,
...the shield was built involuntarily.

Shattered in front of herself,
is what she is accounted for, a responsibility.
That was a message, actually.



***



I woke from the sun light
caressing gently on my skin
what was the texture that I felt on my fingertips
what was I holding

Oh
it was a sheet of tissue
sloppy, it was
Didn't I remember
it wasn't months ago
more likely
...freshly brewed

I tried to travel through time
and space
wasn't it a light year
wasn't it between cultures
wasn't it a tunnel of pesky roaches
but
all I got was to be disoriented

Much that I found out,
I am stuck in this depiction of a song could be sung,
how... tender it used to sound.

Either way my love,
I will be daunted.

"...running and...
Like a river that can't find the sea,
that would be me
without you my Dindi ..."

Subjective Clouds.

If only I could always stand far away and observe,
if my role is only to be a guardian to protect, like angels.
if I could put less of my self in the picture,
and stop being empathetic towards what one self is going through.

What could you gain even if you were to face it.
What could you gain if you were to release from a conditioned structure, roaming in a self constructed labyrinth.
Is happiness the only desire of your existence? If no, why?

I wish it wasn't my story to be told.

I do not want my reasons to be shrewd, like the ones I've witness and contempt.

I weep but I feel like I'm losing myself.



Oh darling,
make it go away.
Just make it go away now.