#607 On Being a Good Boy

All I wanted was to be a good boy;
A good boy who would not disappoint you, and make
You proud. My being would wipe away your tears.
I would tiptoe around the eggshells of my toys
And your feelings: mercurial, volatile. I would rake
Away your hurts, and transmute them into my own fears.

#602 On This Box of Broken Hearts

I've trapped a lifetime's worth of memories - 
Letters, photos, broken hearts - they are
Piled on top of each other; shattered fragments
Of lives unrescued, abandoned to Life's vagaries,
Their screams locked away in this box, far
Away from my attention, my daily distracted moments.

#599 On Death’s Dark Machete

Fate's marionette, you ambled blind
Through Life's dark byways - lost, unmoored.
With every hurt, you hurt in kind,
Unthinking, Life has left you floored.
Your eyes alit with Terror's blaze,
Death's dark machete counts the days.

(inspired by Paul Auster's father, and all the other traumatised, useless fathers out there)

#594 Tentang Nafas Rindu

Dengan setiap rukun ruku’ dan sujud
Aku ampuhkan seluruh pancaindera
Menempuh alur waktu dan wujud
Membucu setiap sisa rasa sengketa
Pancungkanlah nafsu buasku, Tuhan
Agar dapat aku bernafas tanpa sedan.