Penyakit Sang Pesakit Yang Sakit

Mula-mula kau rancang sehabis baik, Lepas tu kau tak ikut apa yang kau dah aturkan.

Bila masa mula suntuk, Sebahagian dari diri kau kata "Lekas!". Sebahagian lagi macam endah tak endah.

Sudahnya kau mengelamun, kau leka, Gelombang negatif mula tunjuk kuasa, tunjuk hebat.

Lantas kau biar ia terus bermaharaja dalam jiwa. Kau dengan sengaja akur, hati berdetik "Ah, lumrah alam..!".

Bila waktu makin sempit, kau mula lelah. Saat itu gelabah menghela nafas pendek.

Minda bersimpang-siur. Berperang dengan syaitan ciptaan sendiri yang berkokok di dalam diri.

Dah nampak darah baru kau rasa sakit. Harusnya kau sedar tatkala memecut arah dinding bata itu.





Selingan peringatan;
B. Disgrace

Lagi tentang jiwa..

Lagi?
Ya.
Lagi tentang jiwa.
Yang kusut.
Mungkinkah terbawa-bawa?

Keterlaluankah aku?
Kalau aku keterlaluan, aku dah jadi macam dia.

Gedik.

Aku bukan macam tu.
Tak.
Langsung tak.
Jauh sekali.

Walau macamana sucinya pun rasa jiwa aku ni, aku takkan buat macam tu.
Aku masih ada rasa segan, rasa malu dalam diri.
Aku taknak bodohkan diri depan public.

Murahan.

Cemburukah aku?
Mungkin.
Ya, mungkin.

Mungkin aku rasa lemah.
Lemah dari dia.
Dia ada segala.
Paras rupa, mulus.
Aku?

Ah, malas aku fikir lagi.
Bukankah raya-raya macam ni lebih sinonim kepada maaf-memaafkan?
Aku hanya terlebih emosi. Mungkin.
Terbuai dengan perasaan bodoh itu sendirian.
Walau tidak sebodoh perasaan dulu, namun masih, bodoh.
Kan?




Bila emosi mengawal minda;
B. Disgrace

Sesungguhnya, aku rindu babahku :8(

This is a piece of something that i wrote for my brother's status on Facebook. Expressing my feelings towards my late father. He (my brother) said he thinks of him. Just wanted to share it here. And...

Of course.

Yes, i miss babah too.

I miss his gudang garam fumes.

I miss him loitering around the living room.

I miss him nagging when we did mistakes.

I miss buying him stuffs.

I miss the times when we both discuss about the future over teh tarik.

I hate myself for scolding him when he spill nescafe/milk on the kitchen cabinet.

I hate myself when i remember the fights we had.

I hate myself when i remember how i always argue with him.

I'd cry each night as the vision of burying him plays on n on in my mind.

It'll burst me into tears when in see his stuffs around the house.

His work table.

His stationary.

That pewter letter opener.

Those ABBA files.

The mug lids.

I'd think of him each time when i pass by those racks in book stores where they display leather organizers.

Black, to be specific.

I'd think of him when i listen to the songs that we used to sing together.

Brings me to tears, again.

(Hugs)

♥,

Ur sister.