Prosa, Scalpel dan Anjing-Anjing Menyalak

J2 (Finale): Silent Me Deep

Too much voices in my head,
As if wanting to touch an ungrasp reality,
No hunch was given and the reality sinks in into the blankness of a void.

How familiar is the name,
The laugh,
The wrinkle of lips that shut together,
Signalling endless possibilities.

Oh, that hour.
Oh, that beating heart.

The unfamiliarity was being questioned,
Like a mist, plundered upon marshes and marshes of sound.

The mist,
The eye,
Touches the roundedness of the contour in a fine thin line of a fate. (Is this possible?)

Where does this goes?
Will the writings fits me in an open arm?
Or sorrow crept deeply that my wounds will be forever heal?

Ah, the lost journey.
How I found you was not the game that we should be playing.

It is inside of your hands,
That once they touch,
Will be the sign of things that will be remembered,
Through time.

Remember me,
Like the happiness that bring,
Not the sorrow that will be rest upon your shoulder.

Not soon. Not. No.
No.