plain anything

i don't know how long i can hold and idea on my head. it is like holding water inside my mouth, not letting a single drop spill out. struggling to find a container where i can place it.

i thought of something this morning, that statement above. do you know how it feels when you're too desperate to write on what is in your head yet you do not have the means to write it? that is why i alwasy bring my phone with me, or a note pad and my pen at hand. for emergency sake.                                                     _______________

_(-.-)_____________________________________{^,^}____________________


                          unfathomable       __________________________        distance.

is there a person i truly loved? to whom i can confide my weaknesses without the fear of prejudice.


i want to write something tonight. however, i cannot persuade my self. and i cannot move my stubborn author within. impossible and immaterial. why the sudden barreness of feelings and inspirations? a languid soul was resting inside me and it has now deserted me, perhaps, taking a walk outside. and me, i'll just be here, and my laptop. with closed eyes i'll wait for your coming, for you to be written in beautiful symbols and so i can make sense of your form, and appreciate your beauty. knock on my door tonight and disturb me, and shook me till i wake  up. and tell me your story. languid.