The Night of Silence

Here lies the proof of our common misunderstanding.
Of ambitions, of lies.
The tragedy of human’s greed and the choice to stay away with all of it.
Living under the land of broken hearts, reading The Art of Suffering.
Choosing of being totally energetic, or totally not in love.
Captured in frames, aired in a screen, with a thousand of thumbs.
There is a lot of life out there, with hundreds of words.
Can we really bear it all?
Can we really see beneath it all?

Here lies the proof of our common misunderstanding.
The young are always angry, the old are angrier.
The right will always right, and the left is always left behind.
Why can’t we stop these stream of bytes?
Why can’t we see the silence?

I’m sitting to prove a point and I see nothing but the flashes.
I’m running to the edge of the world and the night sky surrounds me.
It’s bleak yet comforting. It’s lonely but soothing.
We can stop the stream of bytes, but we should never see the silence.

Reassurance

In the sea of tears, under the blazing sun.
Sending letters, to our future self.
Being unsure about things.
Doubtful about any feelings.
Do we get excited anymore?
For the smallest things and the everyday feelings.

I wrote hundreds of lines for you.
About being in love, with the universe and the only life we have.
Most of the time, I’m afraid I cannot keep my words.
I’m afraid I will keep failing that I cannot be the person you always think of.
Here I am anyway, not as brave and optimistic as my younger self.
Still, have a lot of love to give.

Looking forward to other hundreds of lines on progress.

Lenyap Ditelan Warna

Ketika masih duduk di bangku SMP, saya terobsesi dengan segala hal tentang Jepang. Mulai dari anime, manga, dan kebudayaan Jepang. Biaya penggunaan internet masih sangat mahal saat itu. Ada suatu ketika di mana saya melambungkan tagihan telepon rumah sehingga orang tua saya melarang saya menggunakan komputer. Tapi di antara puluhan manga scan dan fanfiction, di antara berita-berita absurd seputar Jepang, untuk pertama kalinya saya melihat sebuah ruangan putih yang lenyap ditelan warna.

The Obliteration Room yang merupakan karya Yayoi Kusama dipamerkan pertama kali di Queensland Art Gallery pada tahun 2002. Saya bahkan tidak ingat siapa seniman yang sedang dibicarakan, tapi saya merasakan sesuatu yang baru. Melihat bagaimana manusia bereaksi pada sesuatu merupakan hal yang menarik bagi saya sejak kecil. Sehingga melihat ruangan dimana barang-barang rumah tangga dicat serupa untuk kemudian ‘dilenyapkan’ dalam timbunan bulatan warna-warni adalah suatu hal yang merangsang rasa keingintahuan saya.

Pengetahuan saya tentang Kusama maupun karya-karyanya tumbuh seiring waktu. Labu raksasa, bintik-bintik kuning, bola-bola perak, ruangan gelap yang bersinar warna-warni. Dan suatu ketika, karya Kusama terus menerus muncul di halaman muka media sosial yang saya miliki. Saya melihat antrian panjang dan bagaimana orang-orang berfoto di depan karya Kusama. Mereka menempelkan bulatan warna-warni di wajahnya, di depan ruangan putih dan barang-barang rumah tangga yang dicat putih. Ruangan yang sama dengan ruangan yang pernah saya lihat di depan layar tabung di suatu kamar gelap di suatu sore. Ruangan putih yang lenyap ditelan warna.

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The Course

I need you to stay warm.
Because the night is long and we need to survive it.
The road might be a little hard to handle, but we will need to try harder.
That’s why I need you to keep walking.

It looks like we’re all alone in this thick fog, but don’t worry it too much.
Others are struggling on this course as much as we are.
That’s why we need to endure it for a little more.

After this, the dawn might greet us.
And we’ll see the brighter side of each other.
Under the rose-pink lighted sky.
Between our smiles.

After Last Night

I don’t really remember you, or the rest of your story.
I don’t know your name, nor the direction you’re headed on the way home.
After last night,
I might waste myself on the couch again through the weekend.
Not getting excited about the idea of Monday.
I don’t really remember you, but what is this feeling of longing.
Distracting and bothering.
(I thought,)
I don’t really remember you.