the sun has this habit to slither around your eyes, scrubbing through your teeth and tosses me into the city of awe.
i have this habit to spend nights glancing the uncurtained windows expecting a ghost jumps out of thin air but lately there's this song in my head threatening to envelop my bones with your name.
you have this habit to walk a haunting walk in the back of my hectic thoughts.
my brother has this habit to tease me as if liking you turns my existence into a dry joke (no one can deny it anyway) so i laughed like it was funny. i laughed like it didn't hurt.
the sky has this habit to change their color to the color of your eyes. deep, black, sometimes they just vomit the stars. i was tossed again into the city of awe.
my heart has this habit to deny cracks. i guess it's not very different to my hectic head.
cigarettes have this habit to toss themselves into your mouth. i prayed your lips don't exhale bad things other than the selfish fog.
my poems have this habit to splatter too many matters in one root. (i guess they're not very different to my hectic head).
my head has this habit to order my hands to stop making people into metaphors because anything poetic is unfortunately creepy. it's weird that those orders never reach my veins. so i can only hope you never read them. i can only hope you couldn't understand.
my head has this habit to fill words in empty spaces more than needed. i guess it was explosive. too emotional... too naive.
and so the sun has this habit to slither around your eyes, scrubbing through your teeth and tosses me into the city of awe.
it's okay. don't mind me. i'll walk again to the corner, brace my legs and cry. no hard feelings through the crowd. nobody gets hurt. just i and this locked door and some sad schedules. oh, and the beating clock.
that's okay, for now.
