words to a stranger.

she dont smile,
her beauty frowns,
a glance worth a thousand pounds,
she walks the sideway of that little town.

she hardly spoken
but her eyes sent a thousand words
she couldnt run away she couldnt hide
the prying eyes by her side
what would make her change a mind,
should i hesitate or get off the dime.

not until the stranger passed me by..

imperfection.

dad has been telling me ,practice makes perfect
but being an egoistic me
will always find reasons to oppose logics and theories

the moon wouldn't be so beautiful without its flaws
life would be meaningless if there wasn't ups and downs.
we wouldn't able to distinguish one another.

ive been practicing my song for so many times,
just to make a part of it run out of tune.
look dad, im practicing for imperfection! haha.


you're not perfect, neither any of us are




imperfection is where your beauty comes from.


imperfection made me who i am.

night time stories.

i remember
smile as sweet as minty chocolates
chilly palms that once froze in time
warm shoulders in the dark cold cinema

where are you my dear friend ?

i remember
words that lighten up the dark blue nights
sleepless night that you listened to my lullabies
and looking at the imperfect moon on a perfect starry nights


where are you my dear friend ?

every little details of the scenery outside of my window
says a little about you.

i shoudnt go any nearer.

im sorry.

sorry.
it is hidden quietly somewhere in a corner
joining other truth that has been concealed
waiting for someday for them to be revealed.

ive long forgotten that little space,
as i tried as hard as i could to forget,
i've forgotten that little corner where so many things were forgotten there

i'm almost there.

but sometimes the reverie before the traffic lights turning into green
or just an untitled melody i played with my fingers while falling asleep in the office
or the sleepless nights that seemed like blood were oozing out within
would remind me of them.

sorry,
i have to hide the hardest word in the world,



simply because i love you so.

wrapped.

i like to read catalogs since i was a kid
this once again made me questioned my childhood
did i grew up like the others did?
like to flip thru catalogs of furnitures that i couldnt afford
loiter on ebay browsing craps that would make me poorer
or even catalogs of groceries could make me few percent happier.
haha, it cant be any easier to make me feel happy.

i start to appreciate the meaning of packaging
since they are part of the subject i'm studying currently.
i feel reluctant to unwrap things that i've bought
i thought they're some sort of art , when something is beautifully sealed

do i have to buy something home and follow the urge to unwrap it,
despite the desire to keep it just the way it is?

a Gillette razor is still nicely wrapped, lying in my cupboard.