my writings and other illusions
dreams of a writer
don’t you wish you could have them
write page after page
about your blank
ly staring
at
your
page
empty like your soul
bare
like
your whole universe
is concentrated
onto this
bit of
space
endless
like skies entirely covered with clouds
and you can only wonder
about the neverending
under a corn field
you grew in a
forgotten dream
where you ran
round and round
the sun
mysterious
but to you
i was out with a bunch of my chums. nobody’s faces resemble any of mine in waking life. we were in some sort of a vehicle, going round a vast complex, like a campus. everyone was talking, involved in a warm conversation. about random topics. we laughed quite a lot. and then i heard his voice. a band was on and he was the singer. it sounded like a music festival.
i had an encounter with a ghost whisperer, yeah, like jennifer love hewitt. the thing is, i could also see the ghost. they were talking, the whisperer and the ghost, when all of a sudden the latter decided to climb into the former’s body. the whole process looked very simple. like going into a sauna suit.
ada yang
rapi terbungkus
di dalam kardus
bertuliskan namaku
berdiri seperti tugu miniatur
berpendar oleh rahasia
yang sayangnya
sudah kuketahui
tetapi aku tetap ingin
membukanya seolah ini hari natal
dan ia hadiah di bawah pohon
dari seseorang yang baru kukenal
sehingga ketika selotipnya kutarik,
selapis demi selapis,
ada perasaan,
yang sering disalahartikan
sebagai kesenangan,
bukan malah
mengulang mundur gerakan yang kulakukan
beberapa minggu dan beberapa ribu mil yang lalu