next time

 there wouldn't be next time, sayang.

i have given you my love. my vulnerability. i enmeshed my hope and longing into it.

i showed you my wound. and what's left of my Frankenstein heart.

i slit my heart open for you.

so that you will always know that we bleed the same.

wherever we came from, we were the same.

we were close. we were one.

please don't reach out to me next time

i'd only stare blanks at you. wondering how much hurt i could swallow before you break me again. 

age doesn't make me wiser. age prepared me for you.

for your chaotic presence and heartbreaking intimacy.

your love caught me right there and it burned me through and through.

and now you're done, you said next time.

i whispered sayang, 

there will be no next time.

pearl

 this one is for you. 

only for you.

semalam saya bermimpi

mendaki bukit menuruni lembah

harum.

dan basah.

rasa itu mulai tumbuh.

sweet and salty

kulum, kulum mutiara.

#moscowisindeedbeautiful

december

just because i am capable of violence
doesn't mean i should be doing it.

i have a song in my head, in fact.

Selembut sutera
Sebening pelangi
Dirimu kurangkai di dalam kalbu...

hurting others to express my frustrations
seems outdated.

things happen for reasons that i might never know
would i erase them for fear of it hurting me
no. in fact, i would live through them again
i will make the same mistake
i will give you my heart anyway
knowing fully well that you are going to break it.
i would still reach out and make you smile.

i still want to be a good person.
i will not forget you.

i promise.

the beast

i think i may be capable of violence.
sometimes i feel i can just grab a hammer and smash someone's head.
whack their cheekbones. again and again.
and again.

and i will not feel an ounce of pain. or guilt.
or regret.

heightened by a certain sensation that flooded my senseless action.
i am afraid i might feel relieved at the end of it.

or worse.
i might feel that i just want to keep hitting.
smashing skulls. until they turn into a grotesque mash of deformed faces.
feeling a brooding storm of anger overtakes my sanity.
fueled perhaps by their scream, or lack thereof.

sometimes i think
that might be the only answer that seems appropriate. and sensible.

funeral song

there is nothing philosophical about death. the truth lies in the feel of it. when everything comes to a rest. so this is me humming a simple tune. on my quiet and peaceful mid-morning funeral. 

Lay your head where my heart used to be
hold the earth above me
lay down in the green grass
remember when you loved me.

come closer dont be shy
stand beneath the rainy sky
the moon is over the rise
think of me as the train goes by

clear the thistles and brambles
whistle didnt he ramble
now there's a bubble of me
and it's floating in thee

stand in the shade of me
things are now made of me
the weather vane will say
it smells like rain today

God took the stars and he tossed em
cant tell the birds from the blossoms
you ll never be free of me
He ll make a tree from me

dont say goodbye to me
describe the sky to me

lay your head where my heart used to be
hold the earth above me
lay down in the green grass
remember when you loved me. 

- Tom Waits, Green Grass

on my wall

there are songs
that could convey how i feel about you
such as

'some things last a long time.'

written by someone who has lost his mind
a genius. yet completely in a world of his own.

i do not believe in forever.
it made me sick. nervous. a loss of appetite.
i felt cornered. and out of control.

but i still feel the same way about you.
i do not know why.

it has made me sick
and incurable.

i have finally learned
the defect in my design.

that crazy genius. i know now how he feels.

cheers darlin'

one day you will come to see
that i have been right all along.

has it always been about winning,
you asked.

of course love.
i am no fucking loser.

acquired taste

i coloured a picture of a boy's hair with purple back in kindergarten because we ran out of black colour pencil. the teacher scolded me for it. she said that was nonsense.

if i were to meet her again today, i am going to punch her in the face. i am sure now she has a daughter with purple hair.

i lost a storytelling competition at the age of 15 in high school. my story was a simple life confession written by someone who has AIDS and was sexually abused by his gay parent when he was child. I lost to a story about a family of frog who took three years to cross a river.

perhaps i did not weigh in censorship factors in school environment.

i wrote compilation of poems to a paperback company who produced back-alley fictions, they asked me whether can my materials be used for school syllabus. i hanged up the phone and never look back since.

someone that i have cared for deeply over a span of years chucked me an abrupt disappearance just when i thought we can finally talk as adults. i am talking to you, the one in Siam. seriously at this age is a little tad immature, dont you think? all the notorious things that i could have said and hurled at her for being a coward. but i just couldnt bear the thought of hurting her. i do not gain anything by hurting anyone.

when you dealt with several rejections, you started believing you are a trash.

to put it elegantly, an acquired taste.

your own friends never really understood you. your smile is just a practise to appear civilised to the rest of the world.

you scribbled goodbye. goodbye. goodbye.
on your skin all over your body like tattoo.

and to those of you who liked what you read here, think Frankenstein.
think of that monster. the one that was cut open, sewn back together, torn apart again and put back together. now the stitches barely hold the pieces of lumps. all crazy and unfit.

all these writings come from that little piece of meat called Frankenstein.
i am happy that you liked what you read.

too much drama, i know.
of course, in real life my net worth is in millions.
my decent text-book life. but millions are full of zeros.
that is what they are.

to you in Siam. we are in our thirties now.
i am raising my white flag. stop running around.
let's deal with it.

and to the rest,
good day.

epilogue

there was a song.
it kept playing. and his was a lonely figure dancing to it.

all alone in the corner. nobody bothers to understand his quiet routine. he kept to himself most of the time. completely immersed in swaying his body to the soft beating of the music. but the picture was sorely incomplete.

he used to come here to listen to the songs that filled this place. he would sat there by himself and listened. his presence here was merely physical, he found himself transcended into the musical notes, one song after another. a girl came in one day and caught his eyes. she was a dancer. the one that looses herself in music too. she spent her time here dancing to the music played while he watched. one day she pulled him to the dance floor. she taught him to move in the music serenade. against the perfect lullaby. against the soft beating of her heart. she imparted life on him that day. the softness of her skin. the unmistakable scent of desire as two bodies trapped in the symphony of beautiful courtship.

one day she stopped coming. he waited. he could not dance the routine without her. he only knows how to move against her body. he responded well to her lead on the dance floor. he danced for her. and so he sat patiently waiting.

moons and years have passed since. one day he walked to the dance floor. he listened carefully to the music that was playing. he closed his eyes and imagined how she would have moved. how her dress would sway into the gentle tunes. and sometimes how she would pout her mouth playfully as he circled her nearer. he remembered her beautiful burst of laughter as she threw herself at him sometimes. slowly he moved his body to the music. he closed his eyes still. transported into a world where she was still before him, guiding his hand against her phenomenal moves. against this beautiful music.

and that was what he has become.
nobody knows whether she would show up ever again in this place. but he kept dancing in the corner. one song after another.

fiction

it has come to a complete circle.
she said the ending always mirrored the beginning.
one way or another it tends to reflect.
she called it karma.

if we were a fiction
it would have been beautiful.
i said.

and i woke up today
i found the memories itself has faded.
dissolved into a separate dimension.
detached. and unreal.

it has finally come to a rest.

soulmates

how long have we known each other
she whispered

i could not comprehend why it matters to some people.
the depth. breadth. and timing of feelings.
how can these earthly dimensions describe the intensity of emotion.
how do you measure a soul. how do you capture its essence.
how do you contemplate its play on life.
its confinement to perspectives. addictions to trivial entrapments.
the insatiable thirst to define the point of endings and beginnings.

i dont know.
maybe ever since this universe was just a ball of gas.

she smiled.

truth is. time is irrelevant to the whole context.
i was simply designed to love her.

it was raining heavily earlier today.
almost a storm, the downpour was magnificent.

i loved it.
it drowned away the rest of the world.
and the noises they made.
all the little insignificant things that they thought mattered.
all of them were lost. vaporised or drenched.
i could hear nothing but a curtain of solitude.
the speech of nature.

time was my only company.
it stood still. and mighty against them all.

the heavy rain continued.
we conversed. it was most civilised and intimate.
i found my questions answered
my conscience reflected. soothing echoes.
in the symphony of the rain.

then the rain stopped.
time rushes again. for life to begin.

aurora

she stared at me. perhaps with compassion. i could not see clearly past this darkness. it was still too early for twilight. but i felt her fingers tracing my face. soft and delicate. she wanted to comprehend. secrets. she thought i must have them hidden somewhere in these eyes.

what do you want from me

our bodies were touching but i could only feel coldness where our senses met. her hand rested against my heartbeat to my amusement. i could hardly believe it was still beating. i thought it has long dissolved into shades of melancholy. a silhouette of an empty distance. i wished i could tell her there was nothing left.

we spoke quietly. whispering intimately so that this earth would not hear us. in this hour we are the only existence. against the night sky and its fading stars. i could hear myself uttering these words to her pleasure. i was once again a lover. i felt her trembled against my skin. my lifeless touch.

she wanted me. the fire and tenderness forged by these kisses. she glowed into a spectacular sight. she reminded me of an evening star i have once loved. that has once swallowed and shattered me against her torrent suicidal wave. one that tore my soul into blackened pieces. ones that life no longer merged into.

she was still a spectacular sight. enchanting as the song that the wings of birds rose to. and she kissed me again. something in me wounded. i was held captive against this deserted moment. i tasted sincerity from her tongue. and her moist lips. her being where shadows and grief shrunk into nothingness.

sun rise

fiesta of life against the cold window. the sun rays was soft and gentle on her skin. i grew jealous as it feast slowly upon her beautiful skin like a painted sea of dessert rose. and sand dune curves. and i was the night sky that disintegrates each time the sun shines upon her boundless beauty. one that reflected from her soul like a dew on the grass.

my eyelids grew heavy. she was still there.
our fingers intertwined.

twinkle little star

i want to stop. chasing after you.
i wish to tire this time.
to let you finally leave. sailing away into horizon.

i do not want to over think. over analyse.
the thinking was overdone. the single fact blurred into shadows and thoughts.
i do not want to feel anymore than i should.
anymore than you want me to.

this time. i wish to stand still.
watching you disappear.
maybe wave a little.
waving goodbyes - God knows how many i have lost count.
waving hard as if that will be our last form of communication.
maybe it is.

i want to give you love
what you wanted.
i look forward to grant your wish.

i want to stop being there.
for you.

and i want you to turn around to witness the satisfaction
that my absence provides. if it makes you happy, love
i wish this will put a smile on your face.
forgive me. it was long due, i believe.

be happy for me.

back to the start

nobody said it was easy
no one ever said it would be this hard

i simply blanked when she said she had enough of me.
i could not comprehend how is that relevant to the topic that we are arguing.
it came out of nowhere.
already several times in a row these past few weeks.

i held everything back.
i kept looking at the door.
at everything else that are moving freely outside the window.
my mind focused on nothing but the open road.
the blue sky. the companion of strangers.

this must be the most uncomfortable position to be in.
to not be engaged. a million miles away.

i packed my bag the next day and jumped in a car.
with bunch of people i have just met.
people that i have no obligations towards.
simply devoid of expectations.

we hit the road. wherever it took us.
i had no idea as i was driven away into distance.
into uncertainties. into possibilities.
for a moment i felt free again. from this world.
maybe a break from all else.
from any sort of comprehension.

few days away from it all.
they finally dropped me home.
we said cheers mate.
and watched those bone heads left.

it was late. the light was still on.
she waited for me. i greeted her with a relaxed smile on my face.
was still very happy from the trip.

as i leaned forward to kiss her goodnight.
she held me. tight.
she said she loved me. and that she was sorry.

of course, sayang.
same here.

this must be how it feels to grow old..

courtesy

fresh. young. nubile.

nothing separated her from me save for merciless distance. one that yearned to cease. the seconds had lost its own count. so has the soft breeze that attempted to ease the surmounting tense. broiling in me. we assessed each other. anticipating. i could almost hear my own heartbeat.

i ripped it away in height of the moment. catching her off-guard and surprised. took her by the neck and grab a lustful of her long hair. watching her gasped with wide eyes. and let her naked body lay bare before me. untouching. unflinching. i let my gaze caressed the length of her body. every inch of her beautiful skin. the tenderness she wanted so much to conceal and the appealing mounds that were embarrassed by this shocking attention. her long limbs and awkwardness. her eyes never leaving my cold gaze. the soft breeze embraced the uneasiness that her body displayed.

i released my clutch away from her. leaning away.
i offered a smile.
i wanted her calm and collected. not trembling and bashful.

i was in no mood to comfort.
not like i used to.

she was reaching for the cloth. pieces that i have torn apart. she felt unprotected and exposed. it wasnt that, i thought. she was trying to remove the feeling of being unwanted. as i continued staring. i supposed she noticed there werent much excitement in these eyes. she has failed to initiate anything more than a burgeoning curiosity.

my mind did wonder. the journey of discovering the physical pleasure that her body offered. the meeting of our lust and excitement. and i the lover. the worshiper. the animal. she the temple. the sensual explosion. one that i ravaged again and again. what a lovely picture.

i offered her coffee instead. i wanted her alert.
and to not forget.
what i have taken from her tonight.

road trip

royal lake belum.

i remembered it was drizzling when i reached here. after couple of hours driving up the ranges.
spectacular i thought. the scenery reinstated my longings further.
towards what. one can only guess.
i could only stare into the distance. ten years ago i would have been able to produce a beautiful composition to immortalise this moment. at this age, i was contented with only being thankful to be able to witness untouched beauty before it disappears or become another sacrifice to human development.
we take a lot from this earth. we the ungrateful little bastards. take things for granted.
we take them all til there is none left.

funny. it was never ours in the first place.
we forget that.

i didnt stay long here. i was merely a passer by.
we all are.

turn turtle

my buddy was amused,
why did you say okay and turned turtle?

i didnt see that coming.

i.. was being polite. i guess.
i was attempting a conversation.
i had to be civilised.

my sorry convictions.
we had a big laugh.

november 12th

how does it compare. 

if all the syllables in each spoken languages combined
if all tinges of melody in this universe combined
if all the majestic appearances of this nature combined
to form a singular word to reflect the depth of emotion concealed inside

it would fail.
tremendously.

not a single form would be comparable.

if you take this earth with its sky and ocean, and the moon
multiply with the masses of other planets and celestial bodies,
compressed them into a singular being to form a counterweight against this burden inside

it would fail.
miserably.

not a single mass would be comparable.

no amount of wizardry and witchcraft,
no amount of chanting and prayers,
no amount of fear and laughter,
that this superficial world has to offer could stifle and contain what has transcended far beyond physical manifestation

this magnitude of emotional distraught
from missing you.

*the above photo is random. 

eid ul - fitr

i was back in kampung. this time to celebrate eid.
kampung has always been a sight of comfort.
where i spent most of my childhood living a very simple ignorant life.
i woke up everyday just to eat and play. the whole kampung was my playground.
from morning till dusk.

no television. no telephone.
just tricycle. and lots of imagination.

this time it was different. i dont get free ice cream anymore.
ah poh is no longer around. the paddy fields are all gazetted for developments.
most of wooden houses have been demolished replaced by some cheap tasteless brick houses.
i dont see many kids around. mostly old folks trying to make a living with whatever left. numbering days.
though sky is still calm and blue. the air is still cool and refreshing.
but the walk around kampung is now solitary and out of place.
same path i used to trod with my late grandmother twenty years ago.

i felt something was taken away from me.
maybe time.

i reckon this should be my last visit to kampung.
it will only further deteriorate my childhood memories.
no amount of urbanisation can compensate the pristine quality of life
that kampung offers.

maafkanlah bila hati
tak sempurna mencintaiMu