untitled

Kill me now
Please don't make me face another day
Another disappointment
Another failed event
I choose the wrong path
Again and again and again
I don't want to choose anymore
I don't want anything
Anymore
I shed a tear for each drop of blood spilt
So many tears gone
Wasted
Lost
Forgotten
As I am to you
Six feet below

R i n d u

Jika rindu itu peluru, kulepas dalam bising yang menderu. Kuterjam habis menembus peparu.

Jika rindu itu peluru. Kutembakkan ke awan. Pecah ia menjadi hujan, dan membasahimu dengan kecupan.

Jika rindu itu peluru. Kutembaki sendiri kepalaku, yang terlalu penuh kamu.

Jika rindu itu peluru. Jangan bunuh aku dengan itu.

Jika rindu itu peluru, kuharap ia tak akan melukaimu.

Tapi semua itu semu.

Karena,
Rinduku ini hanya peluru, tanpa senjata. Terakar di tangan, diam dan tak akan menujumu. Tenang saja aku tahu itu maumu.

Peluru ini kupengan di tangan, kusimpan hanya dalam angan.

APA PERLU BERADA SEDEKAT KAU BERNAFAS??

DAN MUNGKIN BAHKAN TAK BERJEDA DENGAN UDARA??
SUPAYA KAMU TAU

AKU ADA

Merindumu mungkin salah.

Tapi hatiku melagukan itu setiap waktu.

Hingga kuharap hujan deras menenggelamkanku,

hanyutkanku sampai di depanmu

Berhenti Pura-Pura

Pura pura lupa berkali-kali tidak membawaku pada amnesia.

Pura pura sudah sembuh tidak membawaku pada tidur yang nyenyak

Pura pura tidak menangis tidak membawaku pada senyum yang berkepanjangan. 

pura-pura tidak ingin tau bagaimana keadaan kamu terkadang menyiksa saya sendiri. and it's hurts like hell! saya salut pada kamu yang bisa langsung bangkit dan membuka hati untuk pasangan selanjutnya. hebat. bisa beri tau saya caranya? menendang bola kusut kenagan jauh jauh ke laut atau mengubur kenangan dalam-dalam?

saya tidak bisa terus pura-pura kuat .

Esensi Bahagia

Sepertinya kemarin-kemarin ini saya melakukan sebuah kesalahan: saya mencari dan menggantungkan kebahagiaan saya pada orang lain. Bukankah--seperti kata Einstein-- jika ingin bahagia, gantungkan itu pada tujuan, bukan pada orang atau barang?

Misalnya begini. Jika saya kecewa dengan satu orang yang tidak bisa memberi kebahagiaan, maka saya akan mencari orang lain (sebagai distraksi) agar saya bisa mendapatkan kebahagiaan. Lantas, kenapa saya harus mencari esensi bahagia pada orang ketimbang membikin sendiri? Bukankah bahagia dan tidak itu kita yang memutuskan?

Salah satu tujuan dari tulisan ini juga untuk mengamini perkataan teman saya bahwa jangan pernah bergantung atau bersandar pada orang lain, karena pada akhirnya kita semua harus bisa berdiri di kaki sendiri.

Bukan berarti tidak butuh orang lain, tapi kita harus mandiri.

Jadi jika saya ingin bahagia dengan cara yang saya sebutkan di contoh atas lagi dan lagi, maka saya layaknya orang bodoh yang menggunakan cara yang sama tapi berharap hasil yang berbeda.

Maka dengan ini saya taubat, saya tidak akan menggunakan orang untuk mencari kebahagiaan.

tidak rumit

Hujan di Bandung, seperti biasa saya di dalam kamar kost saya ditemani kopi dan rokok.
setelah puas "berpacaran" dengan gitar saya, saya kembali ke tempat kedua saya meluapkan isi hati. blog saya seperti teman setia saya. dia tidak pernah bosan menerima tulisan-tulisan saya yang 80% isinya tentang borok di hati saya.
dan lagi, hari ini saya menerima e-mail dari seorang pria yang saya sadar dia ada perhatian khusus terhadap saya. dia bilang saya begitu rumit, dia tidak mengerti sebenarnya apa yang membungkus hati saya. dia kebingungan mencari celah untuk masuk kedalam.

saya takut ini terlalu dini, borok di hati saya masih menganga.
tegakah saya mempersilahkan orang baru masuk ke dalamnya dan melihat keadaan hati saya seperti apa sekarang?
bisakah dia membalutnya hati-hati?

dia bertanya, lalu bagaimana caranya untuk membuat kamu bahagia?

saya itu tidak rumit.
kamu cukup bisa bilang

“Hey, saya ingin berlari di sepanjang jalan-jalan di New York, menerbangkan balon warna-warni dengan kaki telanjang. Kamu mau ikut?”

untuk dia si pengirim e-mail,

Seperti lirik dan melodi. Saling mengisi dan melengkapi. Membentuk komposisi yang klop—pas di hati. Membuat setiap orang yang mendengarkan menjadi syahdu. Terkadang mereka menangis. Terkadang mereka senyum-senyum sendiri. Mungkin seperti itulah—saya dan kamu.

Ini bukan cinta. Melainkan sebuah rasa. Ia mengalir begitu perlahan. Karena terus terang, saya ini sedang bosan jatuh cinta. Jika saya bisa memakai salah satu istilah—saya akan bilang bahwa saya sebenarnya sedang cuti jatuh cinta.

Tidak usah tertawa membaca kalimat-kalimat di atas. Seseorang yang sedang cuti, butuh rehat sejenak. Butuh “me time” untuk dirinya sendiri. Butuh “break” sesaat. Siapa tahu setelah cuti panjang ini, saya akan kembali mencintai.

Mungkin saat ini, kamu bertanya: kenapa saya bisa bosan jatuh cinta? lalu saya akan menjawab: tentu saja saya bosan, karena pengalaman cinta saya yang terakhir tidak dibawa kemana-mana. Saya hanya ditinggal begitu saja. Dan akhirnya saya berpikir bahwa laki-laki itu brengsek.

Tapi pertanyaan selanjutnya adalah: kenapa perempuan seperti saya bisa mencintai laki-laki yang brengsek.

Jawabannya: tidak ada.

Saya tidak akan menyimpulkan apa-apa. Karena jatuh cinta itu seperti candu. Selepas patah hati, yang terjadi adalah saya ingin jatuh cinta lagi dan lagi. Saya ingin punya perasaan yang utuh terhadap seseorang. Dan tidak ingin selingkuh. Karena bagi saya selingkuh itu tidak adil untuk hati dan pasangan saya.

Kemudian ketika menulis ini, akhirnya kamu berpikir bahwa “oh, bosan jatuh cinta karena pernah diselingkuhi?”

“Hmm. Tidak juga.” Begitu saya menjawab.

Toh selingkuh tetap adalah keputusan dan itu bukan kesalahan. Karena hal tersebut dilakukan dengan sadar. Dan segala sesuatu yang dilakukan dengan sadar memerlukan akal sehat. Pertanyaannya: jika akalnya sehat, berarti hatinya yang sakit?

Yang satu ini tak usah kamu jawab. Biar yang bersangkutan yang menjawab.

Saat ini, saya hanya kepingin bertemu denganmu. Karena saya punya rasa yang sedang tumbuh—saya tidak mau bilang ini cinta. Terlalu terburu-buru. Saya takut salah.

Waiting

_{I've been sitting a while, just waiting.
I've been waiting for something to appear;
Something to change around me.
And it is there that I so humbly realize
That it is I who has changed.}

HURT

how could you go on

and hurt her like you did

you hurt her with your promise

you hurt her with your lies

you broke her apart by

breaking your promise

by bringing back memories

she never wanted to see again

she's breaking apart right now

and dying inside even more

her heart is hurting so much

and she cannot even breathe

sometimes I just wanted to say..
LET'S GO BACK TO THE BEGINNING, WHEN WE WERE JUST TWO STRANGERS. DON'T KNOW EACH OTHER. AND STOP THERE.

Brain d e a d

you've left me in the dark

with some rose-colored glasses

and a shameful little spark of

hope that your teeth can withstand those lies.

i guess i'm not surprised because

to you, happiness is packaged

in a little yellow bottle, with

'take two a day' on the label

so let's shed some tears and

tie all of our fears to a balloon

so we can recognize as we let them rise 

to the surface, the stars, the moon

that the atmospheres going to burn them dry

and i could list some things

that have made me smile

but you've lost your wings and

it's been a while

so, now you sit, and

fiddle your toes and scratch your nose

stuck in your nest

without your stardust or a grass bed

only a beak full of empty…

words that construct a sweet lullaby

and with the blink of an eye

i can see

those words are tiny satellites

those daily terms you spew

they've circled the world to find a simple,

'i love you'

now, i'm going to say what i mean and what i mean to say is

this is it

you've got to use your head

stop trying to fill the gaps where that stardust's left you

brain d e a d.

sedate sedition

i wonder what it
means to the few
of us

--

wish you
had washed
yourself clean
of me a long
time ago
don't you

--

turn the page now
roll it over and
over in your
fingers lick the
edges light it
up and breathe
real deep like
a kid watching
a fire engine
bleed past the
window when his
mother stops
the car.

--

exhale
me like a
sieve full
of beans

Mati Rasa

Daripada mati rasa. Lebih baik hati yang kupunya kugigit sendiri. Daripada terpasrah habis karena benci.

Daripada sia sia. Lebih baik senyum ini kukubur sendiri. Daripada lengkung yang kubuat setengah mati, kau patahkan dengan sorot tak peduli.

Daripada tak bermakna. Lebih baik air mata ini kutelan sendiri. Biar ia habis tanpa sisa. Daripada bulir yang terlepas hanya menjadi ampas.

Pilihannya hanya tinggal jatuh atau tetap berdiri sendiri. Sementara tanah yang ada, belum tentu siap diterjang rasa.

Jika rasa telah punah. Ia memfosil dalam nadi. Bersemayam tanpa nafas dan akan susah digali.

JAHAT !

Kau hebat, kaulah elok yang paling jahat. Kau akan menjadi raja pesta di sebuah perayaan kematianku. Sungguh, aku ingin memahkotaimu dengan sedih yang paling mahal yang pernah aku teteskan. Karena kau sosok yang indah, namun yang paling kejam. Demikian aku tidak akan mencabut kutuk yang aku tanamkan padamu, sampai aku mati dan kuburku bergoncang-goncang. Dengar! Aku lupa letaknya hati, terakhir ada di dengkul, kupakai berlutut minta senyummu. Mungkin sekarang jatuh di tengah jalan, mungkin sudah terinjak roda hidupmu.

Cold heart

And there's nothing that you couldn't say

Cause you said it all before

Think it's time you walk this lonely road all on your own

It's your cold day in the sun

Looks like your bleeding heart

Has already won

seorang pria bertanya keheranan mengapa begitu sulit memiliki saya. mencuri hati saya
dia bilang begini dengan bahasanya
" "A memory from your lonesome past
Keeps us so far apart
Why can't I free your doubtful mind
And melt your cold cold heart"

saya tidak menjawab langsung saat itu juga saya hanya diam dan bungkam.

mengapa saya harus repot bercerita pada dia?

saat ini saya membangun dinding yang tinggi yang tidak bisa sembarang orang menerobosnya.

kamu mau masuk? yakin kamu tidak akan mengobrak abrik di dalamnya?

Kuburan Mimpi

Paling sedih itu ketika melewati pekuburan mimpi. Semua orang mengubur dalam harapan dan menisankannya tanpa nama.

Disana mimpi terperangkap dalam tanah. Tanpa kau sadar, senyummu tertinggal sedikit disana

Mimpimu mau dibawa kemana? pekuburan? atau kau gantung di awan?

Mimpi seharusnya bersayap. Ia terbang melintasi langitmu. Dan kamu mengikutinya, setapak demi setapak, dengan jejak.

Kalau mimpi tersesat, siapa yang akan menemukannya? Siapa yang akan mencarinya kalau bukan tekadmu sendiri?

Kulewati lagi pekuburan mimpi. Terdengar teriakan menyayat hati. Aku menutup mata dan berkata pada kepala. Aku tak mau mimpiku berakhir disana.

Bagi semua yang percaya mimpi. Sisipkan doa pada setiap hela.

Sepasang Kekasih Dan setangkai Bunga

well Here I am.. in my room, it's still rainy outside.
Just got back home from my show. it was a great show. great crowds. cool place for hangout .
saya pulang di antar salah satu personil band saya, kehujanan, Bandung dingin. tapi entah mengapa saya suka cuaca bandung yang seperti ini. Adem. Sekarang Bandung mulai Panas dan padat. saya tidak mau membayangkan seperti apa Bandung 5 tahun lagi.
anyway..
saya mau sedikit bercerita tentang yang saya lihat tadi di jalan ketika menuju pulang.
di stopan lampu merah saya melihat sepasang kekasih naik motor jadul tapi keren, si cewek melingkarkan tangannya di perut si cowok. saya tersenyum menikmati pemandangan itu, si cowok lagu merogoh saku celananya dan memanggil tukang bunga yang sedang berdiri kedinginan memegang erat bunga-bunga jualannya di sebrang jalan. si cowok membeli setangkai bunga mawar merah lalu memberikannya pada sang putri.
hati saya meleleh.
saya kira air hujan menetes di pipi saya. ternyata bukan, yang tadi itu air mata saya. saya cepat-cepat mengusap air mata saya itu sebelum teman saya memergoki saya menangis di motor.

kenapa saya menangis.
saya menangis terharu melihat kejadian yang simple tadi tapi saya bisa merasakan cinta mereka sampai ke hati saya. saya begitu ingin diperlakukan seperti itu.
saya lupa kapan terakhir saya di buat bahagia oleh cinta.

saya punya keluarga kecil yang memberi saya cinta.
saya punya banyak teman dan sahabat, mereka memberi saya cinta.

tapi kadang saya sangat rindu sosok pasangan yang bisa saya percaya untuk saya  titipkan hati saya.
mendamba sosok seorang pria yang bukan bisanya hanya menyakiti lahir dan batin, namun dia mengatas namakan cinta. ( sejak kapan kekerasan dalam berpacaran itu atas nama cinta?)

ingin membuka hati kembali, tapi hati ini masih belum bisa percaya bahwa cinta itu masih ada buat saya. hati ini belum bisa pulih. hati ini terlalu sakit untuk mengalami luka yang sama. tapi saya terlalu takut.
ya saya tau, life goes on. moving on.
tapi sungguh, tidak segampang itu.
saya tau

Ada saat dimana kita tidak perlu menoleh ke belakang. Jangan lihat lagi apa yang sudah (ikhlas) kita tinggalkan. saya percaya, itu akan meringankan langkah, untuk menjemput sesuatu yang baru. Sesuatu yang lebih melegakan. Sesuatu yang membuat kita bersyukur, karena menjemputnya dengan tangan yang sengaja sudah dikosongkan. 

Sungguh itu tidak semudah bernafas. saya berdiam terlalu lama untuk menahan diri tidak menoleh ke belakang. Saat saya berhenti, waktu tak ikut menemani. Dia terus berjalan. Pilihan saya, tertinggal jauh di masa lalu atau saya kejar waktu dengan harapan. 

well anyway..

saya bersyukur melihat pemandangan indah tadi di jalan. semoga mereka akan terus dibalut cinta, di ikat tali kasih sayang dan di goda rindu. 

bersyukur ternyata masih ada pria yang tau bagaimana cara membuat pasangannya tersenyum dan selalu merasa dicintai.

saya harap masih ada pria seperti itu untuk saya.

Bersembunyi dibalik tawa dan senyuman

Saya mau bercerita tentang kejadian tadi di Facebook saya,
Ada seorang gadis remaja yang me-like fanpage musik saya. dan dia juga meng-add facebook official saya.
Gadis belasan tahun ini begitu antusias ketika saya merespon chat nya.
saya belum terkenal,dan walaupun jika nanti takdirnya saya terkenal dengan musik saya suatu hari nanti, saya tidak akan mengabaikan orang-orang yang mencintai musik saya.
mereka semua teman saya. fans hanyalah sebutan. yang sesungguhnya adalah mereka teman,sahabat saya juga.

lalu gadis ini bertanya " kakak, sebenernya aku bingung, baca status update kakak yang konyol dan lucu. selain musisi apa sebelumnya kakak juga pernah jadi pelawak?aku juga follow tumblr kakak, sebagian isinya bikin aku ketawa-ketawa ngakak.. tapi aku juga bingung, waktu aku baca blog kakak, isinya tentang kesedihan semua.
sebenernya diri kakak yang asli tuh yang kocak apa yang sedih itu kak?"

saya tersenyum lalu menjawab  " dua-duanya juga itu kakak yang sebenernya de.. kalo lagi sedih ya sedih, kalo lagi kumat konyolnya ya konyol"

bohong.
sebenarnya saya lebih suka menyembunyikan rasa sedih, kecewa, marah, kesal, sakit hati saya ketimbang menjadikannya status update. saya tidak mau orang tau betapa menyedihkannya hidup saya.
menjadi lucu dan konyol itu menyenangkan hati saya sendiri. saya bahkan menertawai diri saya sendiri ketika membaca kembali status dan komentar-komentar yang saya lempar di facebook saya.
ternyata saya memang harus jadi pelawak. boleh deh nanti saya coba.

saya baca sebuah artikel tentang psikologi, disitu tertera bahwa orang yang paling sering bisa membuat orang-orangnya tertawa karena tingkah laku dan gaya bicara dia, sebenarnya adalah orang yang hidupnya penuh luka dan perjuangan. mentalnya sudah terlatih untuk menghibur diri sendiri karena beban kehidupan yang terkadang sudah bosan untuk ditangisi. jadi... hadapi saja dengan senyuman.

mengeluh boleh. tapi jangan menyalahkan hidup.
hidup itu anugrah. jadi nikmatilah. manfaatkanlah sebaik mungkin.

menangis itu bagus. tapi jangan menangis tanpa mau berhenti menangis.
bangkit.
hadapi saja.
bersabar.

GOD HAS PLANS.

saya percaya itu.

Soulmate

Saya percaya bahwa cinta itu ada, tapi sempat skeptis mengenai adanya konsep soulmate dan semacamnya. Ah tapi kata orang, ngga boleh sesumbar, mungkin si soulmate sedang dalam perjalanannya menuju saya. Sejujurnya, saya paling ngga suka menunggu. Tapi entah kenapa, untuk satu orang itu saya punya cadangan toleransi waktu tak terhingga. Satu orang itu adalah dia, yang masih disembunyikan Tuhan dalam tanganNya. Mungkin tangan kiri atau tangan kanan, saya tidak pernah tau pasti.


Kalau nanti dia membaca tulisan ini, pasti dia menilai saya terlalu sentimentil atau apa. Setidaknya dia tau, dia istimewa. Saya tidak tau, apakah dia berasal dari negara mana, apakah dia berkacamata, berbadan tidak terlalu kurus, berambut cepak, atau akan seperti apa. Terserah. Bisa dibilang, saya mati terhadap segala kriteria rupa.
saya menunggu dia yang bisa memperlakukan saya sebagai pasangan secara sehat dan pintar.
saya menuggu dia yang tau apa arti mencinta. bagaimana mencinta.

Tapi, seringkali terbayang, dia adalah sosok menyenangkan, yang tidak pernah kehabisan cerita untuk dibagi. Mendatangi saya dengan mata berbinar, antusias membicarakan mimpi, ide, dan rencananya. Membuat saya betah duduk berlamalama. Dia bisa menjawab semua pertanyaan berdasar logika. Saya membayangkan, ketika bersama dia, maka bosan itu tidak pernah ada. Dia selalu berhasil membuat saya tertawa. Saya juga membayangkan, dia jago sekali memainkan alat musik dan senang mengabadikan momen melalui kameranya. Dengan caranya, dia selalu bisa meyakinkan saya yang sering tidak yakin pada diri sendiri. Singkat kata, saya penggemarnya nomor satu.

Sebentar, saya menarik nafas sejenak sambil menuliskan ini. Bertemu saja belum, tapi sudah berekspektasi berlebihan.

kasihan?

terserah.

Tidak ada ‘bahagia selamanya’ yang saya janjikan. Tapi saya siap menjadi teman hidupnya, melewati setiap tanjakan, belokan, turunan, hingga menemukan jalanan tanpa rintangan. Saling membantu membaca rambu.

Saya tidak butuh sosok sempurna yang mengagumkan, cukup dia yang selalu hadir menenangkan ketika saya diserang kepanikan. Sebaliknya, saya bersedia meminjamkan bahu sehabis dia lelah seharian, tidak tau ke mana harus menuju.

Kami, manusia biasa yang saling bisa membuat satu sama lain luar biasa.

Hanya berani di tepian saja

Kamu perlu tau, bahwa aku cukup bahagia hanya dengan dudukduduk di pesisir pantai, melekatkan diri di pasir yang hangat, sesekali mencelupkan kaki untuk mengetahui suhu airnya. Kalaupun memutuskan berenang, itu hanya di permukaan dan tidak jauh dari bibir pantai. Sehingga, kalau aku menemukan halhal tidak menyenangkan di perairannya di tengah sana, aku bisa segera kembali ke pinggir pantai. Lalu menggelar tikar, berjemur sambil membaca buku sampai ketiduran.

Padahal aku tau, kehidupan bawah laut memiliki keindahan luar biasa. Tapi aku terlalu larut dalam ketakutan akan terumbu karang yang sangat mungkin melukai, pada ombak yang mungkin menggulung lalu menghisap habis tubuhku. Kirakira begitulah kemungkinan buruknya. Sehingga, aku tidak mau menyelam terlalu dalam.
Tapi aku percaya, pada suatu nanti akan ada seseorang yang rela turun dari kapalnya, menuntunku pelanpelan ke tengah laut. Bersamasama menikmati pemandangan, menggenggam tanganku kuatkuat saat aku ketakutan. Mengatakan bahwa semua baikbaik saja, dan memang benar begitu adanya. Entah itu akan kamu anggap sebagai harapan terlalu muluk atau doa baik yang mungkin terjadi ketika kamu mengucapkannya sungguhsungguh.

Seseorang pernah bilang kepadaku, bahwa harapan adalah manifestasi dari kekecewaan. Aku menyetujuinya dalam hati, bahwa memang harapan dan potensi kekecewaan tidak pernah dijual terpisah. Maka, mengelola harapan menjadi hal yang layak disebut bijak.

Seperti sedang berada di meja judi, yaitu ketika kamu memiliki peluang sama besar sementara hanya memiliki kesempatan satu dadu untuk dilempar. Dan aku terlalu pengecut untuk mempergunakan kesempatan itu, malah keluar dari arena pertaruhan, dan kembali menghabiskan malam sendirian. Berjalan pelan menyisir pantai tanpa ada siapapun di sebelah sisi.

who is this?

I look in the mirror But who i see isnt me. I dont know who it is, But i know its not me. Her eyes are blodshot, There is a lost, dead look hidden within. Walking through her days just trying to get by. No emotions, She looks like the walking dead. Thats not who i am, But she looks like me. She talks like me, But she doesnt act like me, Who is she?

Lagi sedih

saya lagi sedih. sangat sedih.
banyak hal yang memungkinkan saya menangis tersedu sedu saat ini.
tapi saya sekarang tidak sedang menangis. tidak bisa.
kemana air mata saya?
saya ingin menangis!!
ayo dong air mata.. segera keluar dari mata saya. bikin saya sedikit saja plong
Kalo urusannya hati yang sudah menangis. gawat.
lama berhentinya.
( kupas bawang saja, nanti juga air mata keluar) * please deh...

 sekarang yang ada hanya rasa sesak di dada dan hati yang terasa meleleh.

saya mulai mendengarkan lagu lagu sedih dan mulai menulis di blog saya ini. sendiri lagi.
( kadang saya tidak menulis satu katapun, hanya tertegun tanpa menghasillkan satu tulisanpun... )


selalu lebih baik sendiri saat ingin bersedih.
kenapa?
biar dunia tidak tertawa akan tema kesedihan hidup saya yang itu itu saja.

lalu kalo sedang sedih kamu ngapain?

Lari dari keramaian, Masuk Kamar, Kunci Pintu, Tidak boleh ada cahaya lampu, headphones on, volume up,Ignore the world.
Again, Music always saved my life

saya tau, saya bukan lah satu-satunya orang yang sedang bersedih.
saya tau, tidak baik terus-terusan mengkasihani diri sendiri.
saya tidak pernah bilang kalo hidup ini sebegitu kejam.
saya yakin, everything happens for a reason.



Lagi sedih ? Menulis lah.. Jangan bunuh diri .

you're deaf

The clouds came fading in once again they rained sadness down on me they tried to convince me the alcohol ran through my veins I hoped I could turn blind I feel so buried, and when I scream You are deaf

need

I need but one thing. To be needed. To feel needed. To know that I'm needed. To know I'm that important. To know you need me. I don't want to be lonely. I don't want to stand alone. I want to be needed. I want to be your need. I need to be needed. It's a need of mine. To feel special, to you. To make you need too.

Reasons

It’s because I love you That I sometimes hurt you, It’s because we are the same,
Yet different in our own way.

 There are times when I see clearly Who is wrong and who is right,
There are times when you are near me,
There are times when we depart. No time for us, no hurry indeed, No problems, no worries, no nothing to give, No space between us, no miles apart, No danger, no light, no sound, no dark. It’s because I love you too much That I let my inner self cut you deep,

Don’t stare, don’t smile, don’t touch, Desert me as I slowly fall asleep. It’s because I love you too much That I can’t express myself like I used to, It’s because you love me too much That sometimes I seem to abuse you. Should I whisper the need of space Or pretend that we obey each other’s will? Sometimes I disappear without a trace, Sometimes you are the hunter and I’m the kill.

Flame of the fear

if you wanted to know the truth, you would know that i am hardly ever truthful.
I am a master of deceit, a fiend of dishonesty. my tongue silver and my teeth poison, and the ugly truth of the matter is that i spend so much time swallowing my own tales that i fear i am rotting with disease from the inside out.

 i can't stand to look in the mirror because it's looking into the face of my greatest enemy and the reflection is ugly and cracked like the worn sole of the nomad. the truth hurts like the exactness of a blade through dead flesh around a gaping wound.

i am a liar and i am lying to myself.
i cannot find my pulse and when i can, it's only to still the pounding that is keeping me awake late at night. the truth is i am afraid of the truth, and afraid of the light, and if we could keep the lights out every time you touch my hips, i would never have to confront the burning sun.

 you would never need to see the concealed scars around my inner thighs or the white-out confessions bleeding through my skin like marker on paper too thin. you would never have to see the parts i keep hidden with candlelight and angles. you would never see the places where my heart is charred and burned, and you would never have to see how the whorls on the lighter match those on my twitching fingertips.

 the truth i deny on a liar's tongue is that even though i whimper when i stand in the flame, i am afraid to leave the place i have come to know so well. i'm unaccustomed to beauty and unaccustomed to trust and i fear these more than the continual pain of self-inflicted burns. i ease myself into the boiling acid until my skin smarts and my heart quakes, until i am twitching from the cat-tail lashes across my exposed spine. i can hear their names, and i can hear my insecurities and i know, like i know the backside of the mirror against the wall, that i can cage and gag them.

 i have the power to dispel my every fear and move forward without the limp in my step, and the truth that i turn my face from is that i can't let go of the crutch of my pain. i know pain and i know hurt and i know what the feeling of isolation is. it is comforting to be scorched and my throat is conformed to the shape of the scream.

 i know the familiar ache, the familiar burn and surely the feeling of loneliness is easier to swallow when you never leave it. i am a coward with a lion's roar, and underneath the sound, i am nothing but a child with my hands clutching the side of my skull as if i can pull apart the clarity of reality. i am scared to be vulnerable and i am scared to peel away my shell of terror. i shadow the edge of my hurt like a wraith during the night and i slip into the ink-black waters during the day.

 i drown because i know how and i open myself up to the well-known blade because the wound is already so warm and inviting. i know the bite and the sting and i know how deep it will go before the hilt hits my stomach wall. i know how much i can take and i know how to gasp at the air to ensure i will only double-over and not hit the floor. i can time the seconds between the heart palpations and how long until it will take for the flame to begin eating at the detonator length of my spine.

it is a familiar way to disintegrate, and my body always shatters along the same old fault lines. you watch as i break my mirror once more and you grieve the ashes at your feet. you don't know i set myself aflame only to hit the punch line before anyone else; you don't know i can't look in the mirror cause of homicidal eyes glaring back unashamed.

 and the truth i avoid in clear glass and unrippled waters: you are beautiful and unfamiliar and have the kind of warmth i fear will be enough to still my limbs before i even smell the smoke. you have dark eyes and tender hands and the kind of heart that beckons one to stay and rest awhile. i fear these above all. trust and faith are a paralysis that blind and deafen long enough for me to leave myself open and waiting and whole for the breaking. oh, and your sting will be unknown, the press of your gunmetal to my temple foreign. the sound of death from your lungs to mine will be alien and i cannot guard myself against the hurt that could breed in your palms.

 i can take death unflinchingly from my own broadsword, but never, oh, never from yours! so i will swallow my own poison and light the match to set this house aflame. i will stand in the middle of the smoldering room and i will avoid the mirror and i will focus my attention on that familiar burn. i will forget the way my wrist flicked across the matchbox and i will ignore the truth because truth pales when fear is eating this heart alive.

life lessons in death

i didn't know what pain was. pain isn't sitting in your room with the music blasting and the world going in slow motion, because your heart's been metaphorically ripped to shreds and society doesn't understand you and your clothes don't fit [in] and your tongue has unraveled and you're too tired to try and pick it up again.

 pain isn't watching your friend walk away and your dog lie under the sheets of autumn leaves and throwing your moth-eaten book into the cardboard box next to him, because if you're going to lose one friend then you might as well lose them all and your arms are sore and your chest hurts, but night is coming and somehow you're sure you'll remember how to breathe by then.

 pain isn't sitting in the kitchen with your sister sobbing in the corner and the lights being too bright and remembering the way there was a full bottle of vodka on the shelf yesterday morning, and wondering what it's doing broken and empty on the bottom of the kitchen sink when she's screaming so loud that you speculate how she manages to draw air at all. that isn't pain.

 no, pain is sitting in a hospital room that is filled with forced laughter but isn't funny at all when in the center there is a corpse covered with linen and her mouth is open and her lips are moving but life isn't pumping through her veins the way it used to when she was running barefoot through cold tile houses with her hair radiating around her.

 pain is watching a body you used to know wither into alien flesh and bones with cramped hands grasping for something that isn't there and eyes turning to you with a wild anxiety that all the calm touches and whispers and spread palms on bare legs can't quell when the only thing in the world you know as true is that the beeping behind you is nothing but the ticking [down] of a malicious clock. pain is staring into a face you love and seeing death instead and knowing that nothing you can do will drive back the demons when they've already ravaged her body and you're exhausted and you're tired and you're sobbing up pieces of your ribcage and closing the door behind you and breathing in the bitter scent of cleaning fluids trying to mask the decay. pain is driving away with tears and spit running down your chin and the wheel spinning in your hands until you don't care if you're facing the horizon or the concrete barrier and gravity is just a joke and fate is a fucking bitch and you have questions and demands on your tongue and you'd hit your knees if you weren't strapped to the seat.

 [pain is holding a hand that isn't holding back any longer. pain is loving a heart that isn't beating any further.]

The art of waiting

goodnight moon,
sing sweetly to me tonight.
the curtains are drawn and your light is spilling under heavy cotton.
i am lying with the windows open, and the shutters are drawn.

the world is revolving around me and i am not moving an inch. i am still. i am the pinnacle upon which everything turns. with every breath i fear avalanches of mountains upon unsuspecting villages. you are too far away. i can't feel you, but i see you illuminating wooden floors.

sleep hides from me in the back corner of abandoned closets. i am a statue and my heart is breaking down the concrete in my palms. i am fearless, yet i am carved from fear itself. i am asleep in my wakefulness and my feet swing to touch cool floorboards,

i am walking the blueprint of my house in limbo. i touch the reality of granite counter and leather couch and leave nothing behind but the oil of my fingers. i reach the door and slide it. i reach the lawn and sink sole into dew-licked blades.

you are not here, yet you are everywhere. the yard is aglow with you. i am a compass and i cannot find north. my arrow is continually spinning and i am dizzy. i look upwards and i am blinded, i yearn, i ache, i hold my ribs with my palms, but i can feel the pressure swelling them outwards. i am fearless, yet i breathe fear with every breath. the world is muted.

i am curled on the swinging bench under the oak you once loved. the cushion is molded to your skeleton. it rejects my body. i cannot fit. hell knows i try. i curl in your imprint and find nothing but your absence. my flesh is silver in your memory. i touch your reflection on the metal and my hand erases any lingering sign of you. i move and find you once more. you wink and i sob. you swell and i am drawn to your gravity. my body arcs upwards and i float. i propel myself forward.

 i will fly to you. i will rise through cloud and ozone and find you once more. i am joyous with the thought. i am buoyant with the promise. you exhale; you sigh. gravity unties me. hope bleeds from my veins to stain the soil. i am sitting once more. the cushion sculpts around me. i am alone. goodnight moon. sing sweetly to me tonight. don't leave me alone waiting for morning light.

the story told without words

this is the story of a girl who fell in love.

 this is the story told in words that do not come gently, but rather as torrents of water bending the windowpanes. this is the story carved from the things that i am made of and pushed into the middle of sunlit rooms so that the world can stare in wonder. this is the beauty spewing from an unbeautiful mouth, the love gushing forward from the split ribs of a body that simply cannot contain anymore. this is not composed of large, sweeping generalizations and observations of the world, but rather is built upon the small whispers of dawn. if you split open the spine of this novel, you will find the vertebrae of the story in the details: you reaching over to tuck stray hair behind my ear; the fold of your skin at the corner of your crooked smile; the fluttering wings in the peach pit of my stomach. if you break down my individual parts, you will see them as the inconsequential entities that they are. you will see the way the wind comes to lift me up and carry me out to sea. the way i spread like ash, my different parts nothing more than periods and commas, adjectives strung together with nouns in dog-eared notebooks. oh, but if you change your perspective. if you ride upon the eagle, you will see the sum and the whole and the globe of the earth that rests between my lungs. you will see the way the ocean of stars love has caused to sprout along my clavicle, the garden of planets orbiting my thigh. you will see i am more than i am as i tell this story, the way the words have come together to build me up. the way this story has swallowed me whole and amplified the reality until i'm not longer sure the places where it bleeds into fiction. oh, but you should also know: i am not writing words in the hopes that i will shine them upon the night. i do not care to let the entire world find my signature in andromeda. i am not singing tales in hopes that i will feed my voice through the winding breeze and let it wash upon the foreign city walls. i am only weaving my story, because in the space between heartbeats, it is the only thing that keeps my cells from decomposing. i am blind and sculpting abstractions out of the wet sand pinched between finger and thumb. i am breathing shallow and quick, deep and long, i am imagining you in the heat that comes as the tide. my love has made me more than i am, has catapulted me and fed me until i have the universe encapsulated in my throat. my love has made me selfish, has caused me to not care about earthly means, leaving me alone in abandoned corners feeding on the emotion for nutrition. you see, i am sitting in the middle of an empty room with no windows, and though i am alone, i know you are here. in white walls, i see the shadow of your silhouette, and in the silence, i can hear the rhythmic beating of your pulse. i am filling the void with the verbs that do not bring you here and the adjectives that are not synonyms for the way my heart palpates when your breath shudders against my neck. i am carving and creating and breaking it to start over once more. and someday, i will find the words to tell because this is the story of a girl who fell in love – the story of the love who fell in a girl.

singing of beauty

some sing that there is beauty in the breakdown,
but i have learned in the heat of your palms that the true beauty is in the rebuilding after the fall.
 you found me a city burned to the ground and you exhaustively rebuilt all of my fallen skyscrapers.

you did not mind the singing and the stinging eyes. you never faltered at the quakes that ran up the base of my spine to the tip of the city limits.
 you just moved with meticulous, tenacious, loving grace. you found me a forest cleared on a whim, an ocean polluted with the lies of the selfish, a sky darkened with the ache of a thousand breaks. you found me ugly, and still, you found me.

 so, i do not sing of beauty in the falling, though i have seen the poetry in cracking ribs and bleeding knees. i do not sing of the beauty of salt-encrusted cheeks and nail-bitten lips. i stand in the heat of your embrace and sing of the sun that rises on each war-demolished countryside.

i sing of the light that washes over every blood-soaked battlefield. i sing of the way the soldiers rise and trudge on, of the way even the most lashed shoulders straighten to bear the load of life.
 i sing of the water that touches their chapped lips and the cool hand that soothes their brow.
 i sing of their relief. i sing, and i learn that beauty does not mean the untouched arts of virgin snow. i learn that beauty does not lie solely in the unscathed, unharmed, and unmoved. i learn that beauty is in the scars.

i learn that beauty is in gentle morning kisses when you have felt the bruising touch of those who do not truly love. beauty is not in the falling, but it is in the fallen.

 so, i will not despair that i have indeed fallen and scarred my knees. i will not be ashamed of my battered and weathered heart. it has felt the sting of the blade's edge and it has felt the sear of lonely nights, but it feels them no longer. i will wake each morning and bask in the knowledge that even when i cannot see your face, i can feel your heat and the radiating warmth of your heart. i will open my eyes and i will know that beauty is in living in your dream. so take these words and take this love and hold them close. and know, i will be there soon to sing to you of us.

try to know me

if you want to know me, you have to read my words. you have to let yourself slip into the sometimes boiling water of my ideas and let them blister and scar your skin. you have to touch the angry wounds and understand the serrated edges that placed them there.

you see, i am more than syllables and more than vowels, but to understand the cracking of my spine, you have to decipher the noise that it makes on the way down. you have to close your eyes and listen to my soft-throated whine and listen to my blood-vessel-popping scream and understand the howls of joy that spiral up my chest from the shrapnel of my very stomach.

 you must take the time to understand each of these separate noises and understand the source of the words comes not from inspiration and not from ideas but from emotions that bleed red down my arms to the calloused fingers that hold this pen.

you have to trust that i am not writing from false and vivid imagination, and you must understand that each flawed sentence and each misplaced comma is only a mirror to the messy and wild way in which i live my life. you see, you will not read my words and string together my sentences and stand in awe of the precision and neat order. you will not marvel at the ethereal clarity.

you will read and you will be placed in the muck. you will find yourself in the whirlwind of my thoughts and the peat bog of my heart. you will get your feet stuck in the mud and you will wipe dust across your cheekbone. you will be thirsty and disoriented and confused. you will be hurt and angered and lost. my words will not bring you to red-covered velvet chairs, sipping tea, drinking wine, tasting bread and commenting on the sunshine pooling on wooden floors.

 my words will not bring you to ballroom gowns sweeping dainty feet. my words will not bring you to serene and tranquil pools, waiting for the lady to slip off her glove and brush the waiting water. you will not be brought there; not by my words.

 my voice will drag you screaming into wheat fields in the middle of a summer torrent. i will drag you with phrases and lassoed adjectives into the heart of the storm, the wind ripping your shirt and plastering your hair to your forehead.

i will bring you heat and flames searing your heels. i will bring you chaos, misplaced and misunderstood and mistaken in every way.

it will be a disaster and it will be dangerous and it will not be pleasant in the slightest. i will bleed this complexity onto a page and i will dare you to fall in love with me. i will sit in a pool of blood, bleeding ink and i will curl my finger and invite you into the chaos, down the rabbit hole.

 i will stand in the middle of the madness, this wonderful terror that i have released from the locked cage of my chest and i will glory in it. i will lean my head back and breathe in the wind and the rain and the dirt that swirls around my legs and up my thrashing torso. i will paint and draw and write and invite you deeper into this wild, maniac world that i have created with misplaced and clumsy words. i will call myself beautiful in the ugliest way and show you my scars and show you my flaws and dare you to fall in and burn yourself on my flames. i will dare you to take my heat and swallow my poison and live in my madness. and most of all, i will dare you to read my words.

read my words and try to know me.

Life is pain

As the tears fall down you finally get to see the truth that lays beneath of all the pain and hurt that one girl can hold deep within where no one can see where no one would believe was there only to see whats shown and not really whats needed to be seen lost and alone with no way out just you and me and all this doubt wondering when our time will come but till then all i am is done Life is pain.

terlalu mendramatisir keadaan?coba kamu jadi saya sehari. pasti kamu mengerti kenapa semua isi blog ini tentang kesedihan. memang lebih banyak cerita sedih tentang kehidupan yang lebih tragis di bandingkan cerita hidup saya. tapi setiap orang punya cerita hidup masing-masing , bukan? dan disini saya cuma bisa menumpahkan apa yang saya rasakan dan alami lewat tulisan. blog pribadi ini jadi semacam media untuk saya menenangkan diri. saya punya banyak teman dan sahabat, tapi saya memang terpola untuk jadi sosok yang tidak mau menampilkan kesedihan saya di depan orang-orang. 

Well it isn't soo strange that nobody notice, cause we always wil fake a smile for them so they won't get worried..


beruntung saya sebagai seorang pekerja seni, pembuat musik dan pekerja musik, itu membuat saya bisa bersembunyi dari pahitnya hidup.

Heal me !!

I can Heal the Mind but I cant Heal the Thought, I can Heal the Body but I cant Heal the Soul, I can Heal the Wound but I cant Heal the Pain, I can Heal the Heart but I cant heal what it Holds, I can Heal a Scratch but I cant Heal a Scar, I can Heal Others but I cant Heal Myself, I can Heal a Friend but I cant Heal an Enemy, Darkness fills my eyes you see, life starts to end, No one to be my friend now, no one to pretent, Running blind round loving circles, now an empty shell, He hasnt been around to fall in love well, Being screamed at by hatereds breath, You coward..... , You weakling,..... Your unloved,.... Your dead,...... Not here to make friends,.... My bloodshed never ends,..... You'll be the one for me maybe?...... Please heal me.