#foralongtime

It's been a long time you see,

I Didn't speak nor did he.

It's not like I didn't try!

Ok I didn't.....I've told you a lie.

Looking back, he won’t know exactly why he didn’t realize it was a nightmare sooner. None of it made sense. But then again, wasn't that the beauty of a nightmare? He was trapped. No, they were trapped. And without thinking, he did the one thing he was conditioned to do, over and over again: protect the innocent.

He’s staring down the fangs of a beast, and something prodding in his brain tells him that it’s his beast, that somehow he’s staring down his own demons. Somewhere, buried deep down in his rational mind, something is nudging him. This isn’t real. This can’t be real. But it felt so real. The warm, almost hot, breath of the monster hits him in the face, and the furious snarls ripping from it render him unable to move. Unable to do anything but curl himself around the warm figure behind him.

I thought it had not been that long since words were always etched on my tongue, and there were always empty papers to tear with paper-cut thoughts, and empty spaces to fill with building blocks of poems that I stacked in alphabetical order like a toddler.

When did I miss it that this silence had been longer than my poems could ever tear through; that it had become an abyss of emptiness that my ink could never find the end of the page of. When did I miss it that I had no paper left to be written - or that I had left the ink bared to dry.

All that left were wordless thoughts and soundless voices; paperless books. It would have been nice to turn these pages and fold their edges; to press beautiful leaves between folio of words, left to die in the shade of autumn. It would have been nice to burn these papers with words.

When did I miss it that I had stopped writing?

_

Aku sangka tidak begitu lama sejak kata-kata selalu saja ada terlisan di atas lidahku, dan selalu saja ada kertas kosong untuk dirobek dengan fikiran yang setajam tepian kertas, dan ruang kosong untuk di isi dengan blok puisi yang aku susun dalam susunan alfabet seperti seorang anak kecil yang sedang bermain.

Sejak bilakah aku tidak menyedari bahawa bisuku ini sudah terlanjur berpanjangan mengalahkan puisiku yang tidak lagi dapat mengoyak menembusinya; bahawa telah ada kekosongan yang dakwatku tidak akan mampu menemui penghujung lembaran kekosongan ini. Bilakah aku terlepas pandang bahawa aku tidak lagi mempunyai kertas untuk ditulis - atau bahawa dakwatku sudah ditinggal kering.

Yang tinggal hanya fikiran tanpa kata-kata dan suara tanpa bunyi; sebuah buku tanpa lembaran. Alangkah bagus sekiranya dapat membuka setiap lembaran ini dan melipat hujung tepinya, menyimpan daun yang cantik untuk dibiar mati di antara permukaan lembar-lembar kata sehingga ia bertukar ke warna musim luruh. Alangkah bagus untuk membakar kertas-kertas ini dengan kata-kata.

Sejak bilakah aku tidak menyedari bahawa aku telah berhenti menulis?

HMK

Sedang hiatus - tanpa senghaja.