Midnight Malarkey

a peek inside the poetic freak



Path to You

There’s this path I’d take from my home to yours. It’s a winding road so long I’ll always be exhausted afterwards. So glad that at least you’re in reach, so sad that it’s rare we could meet. But I’ll be happy enough as long as you’ll wait, for I think of you each second—both in dream and in wake.

There’s this secret door I’d sneak through to get to you. Apparently, your parents are too ignorant to lock it after noon. So there I’ll wait, while you wake a flutter inside. It sends chills down my spine and trembles to my thighs.

There’s this look you give to me. I never knew what it could mean. Was it love, hate, or curiosity? But you saw me, and that’s enough. Your eyes are enough to calm me.

There’s this touch you do while grinning. I knew what it could only mean. A secret for others, for us alone it’s seen. I love so much of this of you. I go bonkers after this—your touch is the thing I always miss.

One day, I travelled that road. I snuck through the door and sat like a toad. I was in wait for you to come, but what I found was what would seal my fate.

You came out the door, knelt in front of me. Your parents came too, and I was so weary. I thought I’d be dead, a damsel deemed dirty.

But… no.

They smiled and greeted me “daughter”. They asked if I’d accept their son. I asked with my eyes if this is something you’ve done. You laughed and took my hand. That’s when I knew. They’d let you take my hand. They let me have you.

Now, I go down the winding road each day. I close the door behind my way. I’m never again exhausted by this winding path, it’s true. It leads me to home—to you.



Inspired by a piece from Lang Leav.


I couldn’t figure out what I was doing wrong. So I explained how I feel to myself, trying to get an epiphany.

I felt like sinking. I felt like running on a treadmill set faster than any man could run. I felt like in space–floating, unable to breathe.

I felt like someone dangling off a cliff, grasping for someone to pull me up.

That’s it.

No matter how close we were, you’d never reach for me. It takes two to hold on to each other, two to close the distance. And I’m one short of the one who would love me back. The one who’d save me from myself.

So I fell off that cliff. I didn’t die, of course, because the fall never kills. It’s the impact. But my head’s so high up in the clouds I end up falling into the neverending space.

Now I long for that impact. But it’s not coming. At least no time soon.

And that, I fear, is much, much worse.

You are the picture I paint with clear
Water running down my cheeks
Your name, a silencing word
The face I’ve come accustomed to seek

May you be a lesson well learned
To find the good
In finding peace when I’ve failed
Gaining for what I yearned
So I may say my byes

You’re a word I write over and over again
Not quite getting the curves round
The North in my compass
Set forth did my heart
To you it was bound

I pray I find my peace soon
Too long the clouds of gloom have loomed
And I know you’ll be a sweet memory
Somewhere in the future
Somewhen far

A little treasure I’ve held on too tight
I gave myself a fright
Not sure if my brain thinks you’re worth it
But fate thinks you are

Have been
Had been

Now, still…
My love


I’m short out of words to describe how I feel
To explain to myself that this is real
That everything, in the end, it’s worth
The wallow and sorrow that doth girth

I’m short out of luck
Trying to get out
Trying to stay in
Trying to stay put
Trying to make you
To stay

I’m short out of reasons to keep on going
All the while knowing the ending
Every possible way this concludes
Will never include

I’m short out of faith in you
Of all the sweet nothings
All you say or do
Is sweet
But it
Is nothing I want from you

This shortage, if it continues
Would leave me at the end of the sinuous
My options dwindling down
To one

To stop all of this
Because your heart’s not mine to be won

I’m short out of days to spend
I fear what will come with the end
Because you were my dose of happy
Now I’m at a shortage of ways
To feel love

Mataku ada tujuh
Dua untuk melihatmu,
Dua dari alat bantu untuk menutupi kekuranganku,
Satu untuk merasa dengan hati,
Dua di kaki untuk menuntun langkah menujumu

Tak semua orang bisa melihat
Dan pun ku belajar
Memandang dengan sesanggup, sesungguh
Memandang gambaran keseluruhan, sepenuh

Melewatkan apa yang seharusnya diterima
Mengabaikan semua yang bisa diterima

Tak cukup dua mata
Tanpa mata hati untuk mencerna
Tak cukup dua mata
Untuk itulah kupakai kacamata
Walau kadang terasa tak berguna
—kadang aku merasa masih buta

Jika itu saja sudah sulit
Bagaimana otak dapat mentransmisi
Panduan ke kedua kaki
Agar tunggai dapat bergerak
Ke arah yang mesti


Aku menemukan seseorang yang baru. Aku kehilangan rasa sepi. Heran. Keduanya terjadi di saat yang bersamaan.  Bukannya menjadi netral, sepertinya hidupku malah kehilangan keseimbangan.

Dalam cara yang paling membahagiakan.

Aku kehilangan waktu untuk diri sendiri karena terpana pada angka dua. Kehilangan waktu tidur, terkejut akan perubahan yang begitu akut.

Aku kehilangan kewaspadaan saat berkelana di malam hari karena menemukan pelindung. Kehilangan bantal empuk karena dimonopoli kepala yang bersandar di atasnya. Di sebelahku.

Aku kehilangan inspirasi melankolis, digantikan sendu bermimpi dalam rindu.

Aku menemukan kebaikan dalam kehilangan. Sesungguhnya, tak semua kehilangan tak baik.


Aku kehilangan kebiasaan “satu” karena menemukanmu.

Kasih, sayang, dambaan semua orang. Kala suram membayang, rasa itu mengalahkan. Sulit melupa dirinya, sekalipun sudah lekang.

Belum lama memudar, kau menghampiri lagi. Heran. Apa kau rindu dirindukan? Lalu mengapa kau kerap hinggap hanya di seorang insan? Untuk dua saling memiliki, mereka kudu memilikimu. Barulah bisa disebut pasangan.

Tertarik tidak, tapi tertarik juga. Memang kau bagai tali tak kasat mata. Mengikat, membalut, memaut.

Ah, yang terakhir itu. Pantas, banyak yang mati demimu. Aksi bodoh bertajuk heroik. “INI DEMI CINTA”

Dan saat menemukan aku telah terjun, baru kusadari: kebodohan itu terulang juga.

Dan demi apa?


And I loved you with fire, burning my cheeks rosy.
And I loved you with air, daydreams a floating.
And I loved you with ice, cold tears fallen now freezing.

Loving you was being, letting go never a thougt. Release came with deceasing, putting delusions to a stop. 

I love you in the ground,
with all hopes buried.


Waiting to be called
Dreaming it would come
The time I’m admitted
That I’m accepted

To be the one
And only
That would be plenty
And even more so
If I know
That you love me

I know a look speaks
So does a word mean
A billion definitions

How do you expect
Me to know
What to expect
When I don’t know
What you know

Do seek a psychic
If you want me
To really be
As such

Did I not tell you
And compell
For you to notice
All these

Little things
And feelings

Yet you didn’t
You continued the conversation
Leaving this sensation
Of desperation

Then you say you’re occupied
No time for love on your mind
Let matters of the heart
And make room
For more urgent thoughts
To loom

Then you turn yet again
To search for affection
And I listen yet again
To your incessant

For someone to make you feel

Call me dumbfounded
And every other word that could
Be used
To describe you

You say things
That have meaning
Without meaning

You don’t appreciate
How great
People who have integrity
Can live so happily

And I’m left bitter
Fed up, but can never
Be angry
Though weary

Dazed as I am
And numb
And dumb
I do hope you find
Someone to unwind
The suffocating gears
Churning inside

I pray for peace
And release
For me
From you
And all the confusion
You put me through

So I wait to be called
Dreaming of one sure
Of me as the one
To live with
To live through


A letter. A rhyme. A means to say and still be silent.

When people are in love—when we, human beings, experience this wonderful chemical reaction—we often become poetic, associating how we feel and who made us feel that way to a beat.

We say our heartbeat races, two beats of the same heart calming to the same melody of the soul. They’re the beat to the song that makes us move. The beat that makes us feel oh so alive. Or live, even.

Likening you to a mere beat, beloved, would be a sin for my part.

You’re so much less, yet more.

You’re a pulse.

Unromantic, eh? Soundwise, poets would agree. But do bear in mind that they too would ask the meaning of this unrhyming metaphore before discarding it into the pits of condemnation.

If your eyes ever lay on these words, I beseech thee to do as such.

You are a pulse, my love. You don’t make my heart move, but you show that it’s working. A lack of you won’t show I’m dead—simply, I may breathe—yet, neither living. To say you give me life is lying. God does that. Anything meaning otherwise means I’m a con, condescending what we both put faith in. A con, descending myself to a bag of meat in need of you. Condescending you to a need, a means to feed my greed.

You are a pulse, my dear. You don’t put me to work like a song. Loving you has never been work all along. Relationships are, one with you would be, but to love—loving you—is simply me. Not that you’re never a burden, but one I’d take. I’m not perfect either, but I’ll do the best with what I could make.

You’re a pulse—something I feel. A beat lies deep, buried in warmth of the chest. A pulse runs deep, running everywhere else. So much so, for how do I hide what I have for you? It comes out so clearly, others feel it too.

Like a pulse, I feel you. Each layer of my skin, each vein craves the oxygen you bring. You’re the one who sends me fresh air to breathe. You’re not the only one coming through, just the one that matters.

You matter. Like a pulse, you’re the one I check. If you’re healthy, I’m happy. A beat can always be manipulated. Not so with what I feel for you.

This is amazing. You’re not that much of a mystery. Like a pulse, I can learn your inner workings. And yet, everytime I feel you, I feel me. Each night before I go to sleep, I feel you in my body. I pray to God when morning comes, I feel you’re still with me.

A beat can always be felt, though concealed. A pulse, though known, is only felt by the most delicate. It’s not merely fierce. It’s less, yet so much more—a beam, a warmth, a glow. Don’t you like that my love? To be with you, I’ve evolved, and I actually like it. I like the way you make me feel—delicate, alive, unreal.

Do you see how wonderful now a pulse could be? How you can be?

I’ve wrote this though you may never see. I hope these things won’t leave me dead, still unsaid.

It is late, beloved. Now I shall go to bed.

I pray to God, when morning comes, I feel you as I wake.

Jakarta, December 2015
!!th @ 23.19 — 12th @ 00.39
[with some editing]


The Blues

Sitting with the blues
They’re so welcoming
Never minding other hues
They’re so tolerating

That’s why you’ll never know
When it creeps, so slow
Intertwining with your soul
Your innermost being must go
Making room for it to grow

As a parasite on a tree
The host will slowly see
Simply being
Simply sitting
With the blues
Could… would
Make them blue too

This blue, so innocent
This blue, so truly

Blue’s honesty
Of your troubles
Your problems
Your woes
So cumbersome
So much worrying to be done
And then some

What to do?
What options are there for you?
Sit tight, dear one
One infected with the blues


Once loved, turned bitter
Once sweet, turned sour
Once firm, now brittle
Yielding softly by the hour

Twice seen, undefined
Thrice disturbing, confined
Thinking and wondering
If the next turn be mine

Now house
Once home,
left a loveless dome

Save for few
I thought I knew

Once confused
Now I know

Once the fault was mine
Countless times I have been blind
Now clues are glued
No longer confused

One question remains
To stay where once I held domain
Or refuse to be used
To remain

For the countless time I wish
I could get out of this
And find my home

Just one
Just once

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