jadi gini

tidur ah

eh anjing

kebangun

 

eh gitu kan

he he he tai emang ini negara mau ke mana sih

tapi yaudah

allohuakbar!

 

apaan tuh?

ada siapa?

siapa aja deh

siapa yang nanya he he he

 

 

sebenere

aku ki sopo

HAHAHA

siapa aku?

antologi apa dong

ehe udah lama ya

reto gapernah aktif, zbl

 

 

sayangku

kau ke mana

kok aku ditinggal

hiy

sedih akutu

 

HAHAHA

pantek

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Trouble Sleeping #1

I was woken up by shrieks and screams in the distance, the kind of frightening sounds that would wake up even the hardest of sleepers. I’ve always been a hard sleeper, ever since I was small. My mother would repeatedly rock my body over and over again until I opened my eyes, and even then I would go back to sleep once she’d left. But this time, no one was rocking my body, not one finger was laid on me, and I’m already awake. Those screams are peculiar, and it ticked me off. I was awake and angry.

I opened my eyes, trying to remember what I was doing before I fell asleep. I could think of a few things: reading an old book I just downloaded on my phone, chatting with a faraway friend that I haven’t met in a while, and feeling the surge of ejaculate streaming into my hands. I could neither be sure which one was the last thing I did before falling asleep, or even, if I indeed had done those things before I slept.

I am easily disoriented to say the least, I have very bad memory of things that had just happened. There’s something in my head that prevents me from recalling events in the near past. I do, though, have relied heavily on my abilities to recall and remember things that had happened many months and years before now. So far, that thing hadn’t cost me anything. Yet. I’m pretty certain that it would affect me in a negative way in one way or another, but it didn’t happen yet. Right now it’s just a hunch I have, and I trust my gut, my gut tells me something and then it’ll happen. Sometimes it happens soon, sometimes not so soon, I can’t remember for sure either. That thing that’s holding me back from remembering things is stopping my inquiry about what happened before I sleep, and in turn, it stops any advances in finding out what caused me to wake up in such a way.

 

What happened? Why did I hear those screams? Why did they stop the moment I woke up from sleep? Why did they sound familiar? Were those the screams of people I knew? Why did they disappear from my life? Am I worthy of companionship or am I a resting place to soon abandon?

beasts

We think we’re more than the animals we butcher

“They are only meat, and flesh, and bones;

We have thought, we have strength, and most importantly, we have souls!

If humans die, we do not end, we pass on to the hereafter

We are unlike the cattle we slaughter,”

And such a thought is written in our genes

Passed down to our progeny

Oh woe is us, oh woe is me!

We are not blind, still we can’t see

Are we not the same as the beasts we tame?

atonement

does not come

from the help of things

that live in the sky, I say,

it comes from those that

are damned by the world

we lepers, we are the ones worthy of giving pardon

we are real, and we are vengeful

we have been stepped on

we have been spat on

and we will have our revenge

 

we will destroy you; but not today

Oh me

 

The words of The Lord; timeless and frank

It was His flesh I ate, and His blood I drank

It is He, who exists before and after time

It is He, who rewards good and punishes crime

It is He, whose might is worthy of boast

It is He, whom I long for the most

 

Because of His words, I am saved from idle slumber

And now my thoughts cease to be clouded any longer

From deep in slumber I awake in blood and tears

To the thundering sounds that my heart rarely hears

 

His words, his voice, they penetrate into my soul

My body is now safe, and my spirit is now whole

 

I am not afraid, I am fearful no longer

For I have Him, and He is my anchor

the problem with low skool

The gems you find on wordpress

heaven is my baby

the problem with low skool lies in the way the walls hear but never listen, in the way the floor fibs but still loved anyway. the problem with low skool lies in the way it reminds me of the church, but also hospital, and my dear dean does of god, but also all the care i could not afford.

ask not what you can give; ask what you can receive. that should be it, or so i thought. it’s just because i got nothing left to detach from myself. not a piece of smile, not even a wave of hi. i am not speaking to you. the problem with low skool lies in all the claims how you are better than them, where i am neither you nor them. i swear– the problem with low skool lies in the monarch of intellect, and how i live under the bridge in…

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