(A)Symmetrical Miscalculation.

Every last encounter is not to be concerned, it is only but a consequence.

Every tick has its span magnified, as I roamed across the air of bloom.


I just couldn't do it, I tried so hard, but I just couldn't do it.










An intersection.

There wasn't any better reason to explain the passiveness,


but what ran to me was raw,

unintentional, and unadorned.

I was glad that we could meet again.





It had grown inside of me.



p.s. : I tried to look into your eyes and smile.

Have I Told You:

when I woke upon realization-

that I started talking to myself so much that the other self actually felt the nag,

it was the moment I found myself missing you.

Remnants of yours protrude.


And oh, how warm and cosy it remains.

A Grandma Story (Not for Beds).

"Fair enough"
was what that came out from your thoughts.

It was then transcribed as a message, carried by synapses travelling in the blink of speed, expressed through the extension you sometimes adore, popped with the accompaniment of a triggering audio, ...it always give me buzzes.

And it trails, till today.

Goodness of yours dispersed in a gargantuan quantity, generous, as usual. In the existence of cacophony is the opposition party, vanished in silence, cause kept to be unknown. Without even scrutinizing, my dear, this is a rebound to square one,
Come, sit aside me, I'll tell you what I think of, just like how you sip your coffee.

I fathom your desire of the form of submission, to your questions, that is. The root that you parasite on has paid its time, it had its cycled run, even after death. Goodness of the practitioner wouldn't come to you in this dimension, as it makes no meaning, as the purpose is nullified. Then again, what is it that you seek for?





Wise one, I wish to speak.
Why did we collide in the designed force and motion, in the given space?
Was it for the present, I ask.
Is the design meant to be definite?

Mustn't I feel sad nor sorry for the aftermath, for I hold zero control of the circumstances.
I have came to a point that a reflection has mirrored upon, a result of the condition that was compiled by a series of involuntary outputs.

The vision is drawing closer, I believe.

I shall close my eyes, just as the film suggested.

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.