its 4 o'clock in the morning.

its 4 am
i don't like to sleep this late
knowing that i'll wake up as early as the other days
just to end up lack of sleep.

i dont like to sleep this late
my dinner was so yesterday
and now i feel like there's a war in my stomach
that will only end with the arrival of the army of milk and breads and cheeses
or .. anything solid will do.

im very hungry,
very hungry,
very hungry..........

i shouldn't sleep this late,
i should just lie on the bed with my eyes closed
and decide whether to try to forget the fact that im hungry.
or to keep telling myself "im not hungry" until i fall asleep.

and im going now, goodnite.

put your blue jeans back on, boy.

when homesick turned bad
when that sickness of longing became incurable

its not bout going back to the little peaceful town u've been absent from
its not the bed and blanket at home and the way it smelled in the morning
its not mum's cooking and the spoons and forks and the cracked plate


homesick became incurable
when you're confused where u belonged to.
and where you're heading to.

follow the moon? no?

repeat.

Do u know,
im that type of person

who will listen to a single favorite track over and over again
until i am completely sick with it
to fall in love with another song

who will have the same food for dinner over and over again
just to get my self sick to it
for the sake of switching to the other food

this sequences will never end
as there will always be new songs coming out
and i'd have to spent my entire life just to try out all the foods out there

a never ending cycle.
over and over again.

J I C .

a library of joy and sorrows
thousand miles of memories
and years of stories untold

sometimes i wish i could just put all of them in words
with pen on papers

there are just too many things in mind to remember
scattered childhood memories
my dead pet named pepe
moments on the stage
beautiful things that happened on me
and all the people around me

just in case i forget anyone of them, someday
please please please,
flashes of lights, little things, familiar places or people i met,someday
would bring them back

hm,
i think i'll write them down, later, somewhere,
just in case i forget anyone of them,someday.

to write beautifully.

i used to believes that
we just have use a really good pen
to write beautifully

how good would it feel to have the best pen in ur hand
and let it flow across the blank page
ending up with beautiful words and lines
that you'd never thought you'll ever come out with

they say you'll never write good poems using the keyboards
how true is that ?

i used to believes that
we just have use a really good pen
to write beautifully

and this is the reason i'll never have the courage to buy one.

special feeling #3.

there was a moment while i was singing on the stage
that i paused to think
"why the hell am i singing this way?"
no, i didn't exactly paused
my thoughts were frozen, but everything else moved on
the melody, my voice, the time.
for tat few second i realized that i didnt even try to memorize the lyrics
(the fact that i always forgot lyrics)
melody and lyrics just came out from me, from somewhere in me.
is that what we call singing from the heart?

ha, finally i tasted a few second of it.