Such Beautiful Rain

Rain drops came from up there, I don't know where.
Trees and Grasses brought back to life.
Sit, stare, questioning.
What if one of those drops falls upon me?
What if i caught cold from that?
What if?

Fragments of my soul fly by, disembarking from the mothership.
Then someone catches it with her own bare hands.
Grabbing it one piece at a time.
Then she gives them back to me, with a smile on her face.
Sit, stare, questioning.
What if she throw them away?
What if?

She sits beside me now, trying to pull a topic.
I just sit still, an honest smile.
I remembered the last time i gave off that kind of smile.
Millions, maybe billions of years ago.
What if she doesn't know what it means?
What if she smiles back?
What if?

Talking about lots, lots of things.
Monday, tuesday, wednesday, thursday, friday, saturday, sunday.
The fragments had settle in their places.
I hope that smile never fades and time freezes forever.
What if it's a dream?
What if it's just an obsession?

I don't care. I just don't care.
It's been an honor even if it's just a dream.
Rainfalls never looked so beautiful.
As beautiful as that evening.

Changes

Bit by bit the sands of time falls.
Bit by bit water drops carve a hole on a rock.
Bit by bit the asphalt graze shoe's outsole.
Bit by bit the fire burns tree branches.
Bit by bit time changes heart.
Slowly, painfully, beautifully.

Like What?

I like to dance. Stepping out of rhythm and mumbling through the verses. Shaking my hips like crazy and drown myself in that little disguises called enjoyment and happiness. Losing moments and times while whirling around in a perfect circle trying to follow the music's flow. Engulfed in those floating smoke with 2,7 milligrams of nicotine in it, crushing my lungs bit by bit along the infinite, Jumanji-like world.

I like to read. Books always make me crazy. Foucault's Pendulum, American Psycho, Silence of The Lambs, Also Sprach Zarathustra, Protocol of The Elders of Zion, Fight Club, anything. My head soar to the world of the words, pretending to be the main characters. It sounds like fun to be Jacopo Belbo or Patrick Bateman. To be able to kill anybody heartlessly, to be able to make conspiracy so big it could devour the world, it's just amazing.

I like music. There is, and there will always be spaces for music in my brain. Music is like, you could say, the heart of my organ systems. It pumps blood to my entire body. Feeling the notes chasing each others, holding their hands with another notes to make a whole chord. It sends me flying to the furthest galaxy out there.

But what do you like? what do you really like?

What's it that you craved?

Maybe you'll find what you like in this city.

Maybe you'll find what you like on top of that tree.

Maybe you'll find what you like on the way home.

Maybe you'll find what you like in the coldest winter.

Maybe you'll find what you like inside of me.

Because i like what you like and possibly your likeness is just like me.

Catatan Gila

Seberapa banyak anda menangis?
Seberapa banyak anda tertawa?
Seberapa banyak anda terjatuh?
Seberapa banyak anda terluka?
Seberapa banyak anda merenung?
Seberapa banyak anda merajuk?
Seberapa banyak anda kecewa?
Seberapa banyak anda menjawab?
Seberapa banyak anda sedih?
Seberapa banyak anda senang?
Seberapa banyak anda bertanya?

Saya tidak pernah menghitungnya. Mungkin Anda juga begitu.

Pandora's Box

They said that it contains fear.
Despair.
Mischief.
Malice.
Doubt.
Diseases.
Horror.
All the evils the world could possibly have.
Would possibly have.
With a single stroke of Pandora's fingertips, and boom.
We recognize fear, despair, mischief, malice, doubt, diseases, horror, so on.
Cruel, isn't it?
The fate of that woman.
Curiosity drove her into a bottomless pit of guilt.
Maybe there's only one thing that's still in that box, and we called it hope.

But what if she never opened that box?

what if all the evils were out from the start?

What if there's no such thing like the box?

What if we never have hope on the first place?

What is fear?

What is despair?

What is mischief?

What is malice?

What is doubt?

What is disease?

What is horror?

What is evil?

Pandora never exist. So does the box.

And so does hope.