Archive for August 2015


I am taking forever to measure the distance
between your fingers; counting miles
that stretch across the peaks
and valleys,
the crooks and scratches on the
sea of life that is
your fingers.

I’ve known a few things:
the twists and turns, the intricate
engraved on your tips, the little
spaces where your stories dwell—
the telltale of
every subtle touches.

You’ve let out more from your tips
than you ever did from your lips.

I am dying to know, though,
the secrets you kept
between your fingers:
everything that had tangled
and interlocked in the deepest
of spaces.

“This is where I keep things
that I don’t let out,” you once
said, and of course I was never let

But you let me measure the distance
between your fingers, and
when I get to count the depth
of your abysses,
they were impossibly big,
impossibly deep—

Never in my life had I wanted to lock hands
with someone so badly.

I just want to be another secret,
another inch in your abyss,
but counting distances is the only thing

you let me.

Untuk yang merantau,

Pergi itu lebih dari sekedar meninggalkan rumah satu kamar lebih kosong dan membawa jejak ke tempat-tempat yang lebih jauh, tapi juga
memberi ruang bagi orang-orang terdekatmu untuk menjadi lebih besar, lebih lapang.

semoga jarak memberi ruang, dan ruang memberi lapang.

Recollections of 8/8 and 9/8

I wonder if this very corner
was reserved for people who
did not smear blood on their lips.

I thought baring was not a sin;

I have to remember how my name sounds
in unfamiliar mumbles.

Perhaps I'd have caught it spoken
any other time (if any);

There is something fascinating about
wall-facing seating,
no faces and sceneries, colours

I heard the colour orange is best-suited
for dining;

Detours are tolerable when walking
is the last thing you do while you're walking.

I'd never trust maps though, nor will I ever trust
things that turn miles into mere inches;

People make acquaintances
and I don't,
this time not for the usual reason, though;

The better way
to make people leave, instead of burning flames,
they say,
is to leave them cold,

I thought cold would be something I'd withstand,
but they were shutting the wi-fi instead;

This is the way of telling a long story:

*End of chapter 10*;

A zoophilic, a pyromaniac, a masochist, a necrophiliac
and a sadist walk into a bar--
conversation and witty punchline ensue,

I wonder if a group of people telling stories and jokes on
disturbing and weird fetishism are
fetishes themselves;

Serenades and midnight-sharp surprises
were not something to swoon over,

Yet another reason to never be a heartthrob;

I had peed three times
in the last hour alone,

I had had so many things going over my head;

With a voice like yours,
don't ever say, "thank you,
hope we'll see you again."

With a voice like mine, I reckon
it'd be okay, though.