Category: secretly i’d love to do it PSYCHOLOGICAL

Once I Took the World

I want a life like yours.
Tall that you can view the world from high above,
Knowing exactly which horizon to walk on.
I want a life like yours,
Pretty that diamonds and ruby fall meaningless around you,
And your eyes means prosperity.
I need a life like yours,
You’re one to trust when every soil, every ocean shake into destruction,
I want a live like you so I took it from you.
I want a heart like yours so I rip it out of your rib.
I want to warmth like yours, so I stole it all, I ruin it all for you.

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Afraid

I’m afraid.
I’m in darkness.
I’m being chased,
I feel hot and I’m crying also.
There’s light, a voice of someone that might be helping me-I fall and fall, bleeding, I hope, I fall, and it still indeed not funny, this DARKNESS.

I’m afraid.
I’m afraid, I’m fragile and I’m naked.
Vulnerable, I hope run can save my live : I’m afraid and I’m fragile and I’m naked.
I’m crying, I’m yelling also I’m begging.
Being tied, I hope, ridiculously hope, I simply won’t die.
I am afraid, I am shaking and being chased.
I am afraid, I am yelling and none listening.
I am afraid, I am looking back and and there is no mercy.
I’m afraid and it’s silence.

Suicide Letter

I thought it would be blue.
When the sky ripped into two,
All the sphere and bird and clouds, sucked into the damaging tantrum,
It is almost as if the sky crying,
I am staring at that.
All the fusion and crash,
All the papers and pen around me,
I thought the world would be blue.

I’ve always hated the white paper,
For it not understanding how hard to write a starting letter on it.
And writing on it is getting harder that it would be my last letter :
‘Dear Mother,’
I throw all the papers to the grounds with all of its twin, I could not even left her the last message.
Dear Mother,
I still can’t do it that I crush the paper again, throwing it on the floor again.
I’m crying now all hands holding my head and feeling its pulsation.
The frustration dwelling in this loser made me scream a voiceless anger.
It is as if the world ain’t letting me win, not even winning over something as small as writing a letter.
I’m a loser I’m a loser I’m a loser I’m a loser a lot much loser I’m a loser I’m a loser
And I tried to overcome my last challenge. I’m a loser. The world is so vast and too much hardship in it. I cried a lot, I burn a lot, I curse a lot too and finally I got to only override on last quest, I’m writing it in sorrow, in anger of despair. I’m thinking it in my deepest thinking,I’m swearing in my rudest word, I’m writing my suicide letter.

Exhibitionsm of the Awful

That day I fell in love. Also that day, I felt betrayed by own bravery. She was there, breathing, while I was there, unappealing. I thought I have the right to fall in love, which is naive. I thought I was brave, which is useless. When I approach her, she stood in disbelief, not making an effort to just seeing my existence.
“Hi there.”
She sit there, no words uttered.
“Um, I really like your red jacket.”
She sit there, drinking her wine.
“You know they said for Taurus people red is the best lucky charm. What month you were born?”
She’s still there, opening her purse, grabbing her phone.
“I’m sorry I am rude. I’m Shea.”
I was at her right side, yet she look to the left, giving me the scenery of her thin back, talking to her phone.
I felt like being crushed to the ground, dishonored, betrayed by own body for having such an unappealing face.
So I show my body to people. All people, woman, drunkard, passerby. I need anything to see me. I’m flying and indeed I am high. As I find this thrilling act, I feel I’ve made the world pay for my ugly face : all those appealing faces became dreadful as they grow disgust towards me.
And there I am, broken hearted, yet still ugly. And there I am, hoping someone to see me. I was there when making the world pay, I’m there as I stoop into the lowest floor of the world. She was there, at the place where everything became dreadful.

This is Regret

Three things I regret about that day.
The cruel two-faced time.
The sound of my favorite song,
And the white soap and its foam.

Merciless years trained me into a confused man.
I live in a delirium of a repeating dreadful day,

Please, Time, how many faces you actually have.
Time, how much I should bribe you to get me back into that awful day.

That time, I was filled with rage.
So I beat this guy’s nape with my radio.
I beat his nape mercilessly, he started to bleed and he died on my foot.
He looked so low, with this shocked expression on his face, with blood from his mouth and neck, with face on my foot.
He died, and all I can do was breathing heavily.
He died, and all I did was feeling regret, guilt.

If only that time I was able to control my rage.
Or, if only that time there was no problem between myself and him.

‘What should I do,’ was what I thought that day.
I should’ve called and ambulance, or call the cop or my parents,
Rather than doing reasonable deed about my act, I was standing still,
I was listening to my favorite song on the wrecked radio.

I don’t know how but my shaking body was able to go to the bathroom,
where I washed my bloody hands repeatedly with the white soap,
My vision was so focused on the foam,
I felt the foam was more blurry than usual,
Perhaps that was because tears starting building on my eyes,

I felt

I was the worst being ever breathing..

Years go by but I still repeating those events, thinking what I should’ve done.
I keep repeating questions that no one can ever answer,
Am I a better man now?
When will this turmoil go away?
When will this restlessness leave me alone?
In which way I can possibly repent,

And, should I repent?

Two-faced time provoke me to look from another perspective.
That time, I was trembling out of my conscience,
Crying over his dead body.
Today,
I am trembling out of excitement.

He should’ve provoke me more,
His bleeding helpless body,
My dominating body,
My adrenaline rush,
That time, I should’ve killed him in more exciting way.

I am taking a deep breath,
Motions of that day keep repeating,
The wrecked radio,
never has to be that broken,
I shouldn’t hit him till I broke the radio,
He shouldn’t have to dead by the radio, he should’ve just dying,
That way
I could enjoy his pain longer,
That way,
My song could come out in a clearer voice.

As it starting to get clear about what
I’ve been regretting these past year, I come to my biggest regret, that
I shouldn’t have washed my hands.
I should’ve lick his blood clean, and perhaps those excitement I felt after killing a breathing man could doubling.

Certain Disturbances

One. Knock.

Two. Knock.

A third knock and I will get out of my glorified position- knock.

So I open the door, the french ‘con’ of my landlord is on my door. They said that he really loved the narration about french in Titanic movie, so much that he decided to learn french and starting spend much time to act like a french man.

“How can I help you?” I ask him. “It is actually not really appreciated that you’re here.”

“Ah Mr. Jake,” he answered in a fake french accent, “There is a complaint about your room, uhm, the room next to you complained that there is a certain disturbances.”

“What kind of disturbances?”

“Well, as we all know- she is a bit lunatic, don’t you think?” He started to laugh awkwardly, happy but awkwardly, “You don’t keep cats don’t you?”

I just feel like laughing also, “No. Even I am allergic to cats.”

“Dog? Ferret? Hamster? As per our contract, don’t you agree that not even ants pet can be kept?”

“I do agree. Look, this is kind of awkward, I can tell you thousand of time that I don’t have a pet and you’ll just still standing here insisting that I have pet. How about you go and check my room?”

He’s back with his awkward laughter again, “Yes, that would be appreciated.”

We are now in my living room, he say, looking at the picture on the wall,”Ah. I don’t know that you have a daughter.”

“That is the third mistake you did today.”

“Pardon me?”

“That’s not my daughter, the picture on the wall.”

“Ahh. I see.”

“The first mistake was insisting that I have a pet.”

He is back with his laughter, “So the third one that you have a daughter, eh? So what is my second mistake?”

“Well,” My mind is a bit wandering, how the hell that lunatic lady beside my room is hearing ‘certain disturbances.’ My mind is thinking about french and my landlord, about the girl far far away that her picture is hanged on my wall, what am I going to do after this, “Second one is entering this room. Your second mistake was entering this room.”

Worst for Woman

I think that is the worst,
A woman that clearly got beaten into a pulp.
Aren’t she fragile and bony.
How much does it cost for a tissue to wipe the bitterness off her face,
I think this is the worst.

She bring a bit too big luggage with her : I hope she know that everyone will choose her side,
Although what I see in her is only the worst.

My feeling make me walk towards her,
I’m behind her hair and her back,
I gently poke her shoulder and grab her luggage,
‘Miss at least let me help you with this.’

But the luggage is kicking.

I can vaguely hear a damped voice from there, ‘mmm, help!’