vforvicious

i don’t think i have enough strength

to keep all those secrets that people

ask me to keep lately.

they are just too many,

too sad,

too painful

and

too dangerous.

I love giving compliments to people

because i think they deserved them.

unfortunately, i am surrounded by

a bunch of cynical and bitter human

beings that often perceived compliments

as small talks only.

poor people.

poor me.

No, it’s not like the way my girlfriend loves you

but I love you nonetheless

I love you for always trying to be strong

and never let life break you down.

I love you for our chats over things

that you always know more about them

but you never makes me feel inferior

because of it.

I love you for the mix of cynicism and

shyness that makes you look like an awkward

nerd with attitude.

I love you for the way you love my friend,

the way you love life and the way you love

your children.

I love you for always telling the truth and

standing tall against all odds making

people afraid yet enchanted by you.

Don’t look at me like that miss,

you are a much better than me

from head to toe.

Trust me, I’m not worth your envy.

sebuah tempat menyimpan

kehidupan saya selama lima

tahun terakhir ini,

untungnya saya tidak kehilangan

tempat menyimpan jiwa raga

saya selama tiga tahun belakangan ini.

Happiness is.

if you have too much of it.

Trust me.

Old, fat

and ugly.

I always like changes.

no matter how surprising,

how painful,

how sad and how heartbreaking.

I just realized it today.

weird.

Kekasihku mencoba mengajariku

bermain catur suatu malam

dan aku temuka betapa payah

dan malasnya otakkku sekarang

untuk berpikir dan mengingat sedikit

lebih rumit dari biasanya.

Aku sedih sekali.

its not about any of this shit, this bright hair of mine, this cat collar around my ankle, the thick green and orange of my jacket, its not about the way i sit slouched on the sidwalk, metal through my body, ink in my skin.its not about any of that.

its the way we dance strong and fast, climb buildings and fences and scream when we want to.the way we carry each other home, sleep next to each other with our faces covered.its every small genious thing we do. words we put down in pencil, in paint, scratched into cement.all we need built out of rusty bolts, old car parts, bottles and milk crates. its sleeping in the rafters with a door for a bed.stealing pianos off front poarches. swimming in the cold toxic water because your dead friends ashes are somewhere in there.

its about how we can learn everything from each other which trains to take, how to play this guitar dan this violin, how to break in, break things down, wire them back up the way we want them.its being awake when everyone else is asleep, looking in their windows, running through the streets, walking seven miles to the next town for coffee, building bonfires in closed down landfills and having enough time to want everything.

I know a boy with his toothbrush around his neck.i know a girl who always spits on her shoes. i have a teeshirt that belonged to my great grandfather.i have a patch that someone made me. its these small things that hold us together.these invisable things they don’t see.

Punk.