Collect the rest of the words that were scattered on the head, breaking all sense and logic.
It is a poem that tired, leaning with resignation.
There was no direction where this will lead poetry, maybe ignorance is now worthwhile.
It is a poem that tired, so tired. I.
Not illuminated corner is a place to hide from the word that can not jump out of the throat.
Because this poem tired, tired not because life but only silence. Silence like a carcass that just silent.
Let's say I have a carcass, which moves just do not what else to feel.
My heart rot that is now beginning encroached fucking maggots, then let's just say I do not have it.
You, young lady with beautiful eyes, do not you bit your head thinking about the start carcasses in isolation? Foreign from the first time to taste everything I have and you leave it alone.
Miss, I confess, I do not hold you one who ran away from me. My stupid not realize you want to get away from me that is controlled by the ego.
Miss, please come back and forgive me. Let me reveal a little taste of what I save.
Miss, because this poem tired. I'm tired of waiting for you.
by Dika Kurniawan
