sorry to disappoint you

This poem is supposed to be depressing

if it can't be a good one,

but I haven't written for so long

and I had forgotten how to.

I wonder, should this poem be short

as one's dying breath

or as long as his poignant life.

A meaningless appearance

credited by a brief eulogy-

I don't know,

I haven't written for so long

and I had forgotten how to.

This poem is supposed to be depressing

but I haven't been depressed for awhile.

Well of course it's a good thing

for me, but not for this poem

as right now I'm trying so hard

to remember funerals,

dead friends and sad movies.

And using words

such as poignant and eulogy

doesn't seem to help.

This is not depressing.

This is not even a poem.

archangel

burial-archangel

holiday (thank fuck)

Frigid wind passing through
overlapping layers of damp laundry.
Fake curtains for a temporary room.
God bless these rainy mountains,
I don't mind if I'm buried here.

Sighs won't stop this bed from getting colder.
Stares won't hide those dust coated books.
Worries won't finish these never started tasks.
And all we ask for is more sleep,
and more strength to stay awake.
Maybe a bit more time to waste?
If death sneaks in between thunder and lightning,
would it be for the worst or the best?

God bless these rainy mountains,
I really don't mind if I'm buried here.

mothers always cry

Mothers always cry when we told them
about bad things their kid had done.
And the lies their kid had told them
make their cries even louder.

Such soft being wasn’t meant to be here.
This is no place to be all-motherly.
In this dump truck to hell
where excrement are melting ice cream,
sweet flesh and gold bathtubs
tempting, breaking even the holiest of heart.
What do you expect?

Lies are made for you, for us
to have breakfast with you with no shame,
to knock on your door and still call you mother,
while feeding the dogs inside us
with guilt and more mistakes.
But what do mothers know? Other than truth
that is long gone.

Failed to see through tales we crafted
and never know that this kid
that come out of them is pure shit,
pure mockery to God's design
of hypothetically more clever apes.

Devil's firewood kicking in your womb

for nine wasted months.
But what does a mother know? Other than giving birth
to a liar
who never wrote this.

are we there yet?

Inches are now miles.

Days are now years.

Two roads are now made one,

and destinations are set

for as long as our fingers are intertwined.

Aim for the furthest you say.

Shoot for the brightest star.

Doesn't matter how severe

my worries leave me sleepless,

wrecked and dying, you'll serenade me

with tales from a better life.

"It's okay,"

"It's allright,"

"We'll make it through no matter what,"

But will you ever let go? I won't.

For everyone knows

how my feet are stronger

when I walk beside you.

How my stride are more swift,

and my smile are more sincere.

For everyone knows

how easily you rip the pages,

and rewrite me line by line.

I am your masterpiece.

I am your companion.

I am yours.

Sing me a song my dear,

tell me stories that I will remember

promises we will keep forever

mountains we will both conquer

shores we'll swim together

stars we'll die under.

baseball bat

Ink may dull. Bones may break.

Passengers bound to separate.

This room is on fire

and we call out for you.

Eyes ahead. Heart in the present

yesterday would stay indifferent-

Get out of my way.

Get off you bastard.

We never got room for dogs.

Clenched fist bound to cross.

Pilot drowned in bloodlust.

Will the oldest be the best

or left mangled in the dark.

branches

One with the branches of the trees,
the skeleton of who you are.
I cant stand these rotting limbs.
Just cut it off. Just tear it off.

deadliest gang in russia

                                                                               

Brb installing dashcam on my bike :D

shitty brother

My time is always wasted, and I always feel nothing. Today I found out that my brother is gonna be having his upsr on tuesday, and when I go through his exercise paper, I found out that he knows nothing. Not actually nothing, but he is so far than prepared for it. He said he couldn't do anything for the composition part for his english paper, and I'm okay with that. Not that I expect him to be so good and writes like a pro. I asked him the meaning of those words on the exercise paper, and I point out the word "classmate". He confidently answered "kelas math la bodoh sial tua ni". Now i know how it feels when sarah always give up on me when she teaches me arabic. This few days before we never stop talking about that kid that has finished all Harry Potter books and had begin reading what, Hobbits? Fuck that kid.

I know that all I've written here, could never be understood by my own brother if I never do anything before it's too late. My three months holiday I've spent for nothing, should have made him better if I ever kicked his bedroom door and smacked a book on his face. But I didn't. What a waste of precious time. He should've known what a classmate is and not make me feel like shit right now. Feels like waking him up and begin cramming everything in his head until he pukes blood. Good luck for upsr.