there there

there will always be that itch at the back of my head, of how things would be if no one ever intervened. would that love song last long enough for the tune be turned into wedding bells. lovely words of comfort and warmth that blankets us to sleep. your smiles that brightens my day, which was the result of even my slightest gesture. the common words that i used that could never bore you to your sleep, even if i use it ever so often. i wonder if you’ll ever get tired of those, or could never get enough. i bet my money on the latter one.

hey, na ying sings it so well, that everything is just a dream. will i have the chance to relive such moment, or will i have to endure the pain of falling into a nightmare. do i get to see reruns? i seriously do not mind repeats. repeats that will keep the burning passion of loving on another. repeats that will never be bored. repeats of time that will make tears role down my cheeks as the sound of keyboards echoes in the emptiness of a hollow person. does na ying knows well what she is singing? i bet she does. she’s singing the tune of sadness beyond possibilities of healing from time.

every pluck of the guitar, plucks the loving away from the heart. the heart that once could love ever so strong for another, seems to fade away to the end of the song, as her voice descends to the cold silent room. the urge to press stop and end all this, doesn’t seem to be strong enough as the pain flicks the life switch as well.

to end all this, is to end my story. the story of struggle from within. it has to end. it must end. stop the pain like how i drop the habit. i could do that, i am sure this is peanut only. this should be as easy as 1,2,3, as it has been years of the last tear. please, the therapy will have to stop now. farewell as the hand wave to an empty room.

hi there pretty. remember me?

pathetically annoying

does the pain comes together with the lovely red
for us to share the sinful pleasure on the bed
where are you to share love and what’s mine
before hope is given up forever lost in time

those moments of the past should stay buried
i can only hope that tears doesn’t come in a hurry
help me find that little movement in the heart
make it be love that comes before lust

dancing under the moonlight ain’t gonna be
but at least let me walk with a smile so sweet
let the shooting stars stop for a minute
it’s that falling feeling again that i so need

things

it just gets better than betterly pathetic…

one liners

waiting for that feeling of thrill, hoping for time to heal
standing under the heavy rain, a knife thru with great pain
where’s my head when i need the most, lost my mind for addiction of love
routine for people of your kind, but it’s pathetic for me wanting to find
one step behind the normal, two steps ahead of the devil
what was felt hope was true, wish i know what next to do
the mouth is like a talking pussy, speaks and licks another’s fanny

friend?

today, it was good to find out bits by bits of my dad’s social life. some are bad, some are good while a small part of his life was quite touching. things like asking another friend for favor as in really a “khang thao” project for a house renovation, it IS really “khang thao” pricing. these days, i’ve only seen friends eat friends. there are no true friendship in the circle of so called, “brotherhood”. my dad had a friend, who really was a trustworthy person and did our old home’s renovation for a low price and a good work. but sadly, both of them never had the privilege to enjoy their gray hair years as grandparents. as always, good people die early. this has been happening a little too often i would say, and all have left us at the age of 49.

recently, at a lunch with my mom’s family members at her hometown, i suddenly remembered how one of my late favorite uncle walking down that hallway smiling at us, as he arrive from a long drive from johor during chinese new year. that smile of a happy face seeing family members get together. so sad that he couldn’t hold on to his. now it has to be left in the hands of a perfect stranger to him, which his widow was probably fiddling her fingers at the stranger’s hair as he worked his ass off to support a high maintenance young wife. sigh, i miss you, uncle. it’s been almost 15 months since your passing and only now i felt my lost. so lost. so sorry.