I always want to do things so courageously. Like dancing naked and you look me with glee.
Or drawn myself in the ocean of parchment and play with the gun you hide in the drawer.
But the more I want to do, the more I think about mid-life crises for whatever damn meaning of it.
Then, one day a kid tap me in the shoulder and asked, “Sir, are you Mr.Sir, Sir?” “No, Sir. I am not Mr.Sir. I am a loser and please kill me.” I replied

Why don’t you eradicate the cowardice then, you mother fucker?
In my vision, I see a black shadow lingering
the truth that will shake the foundation of your believe
like the fornification you consumed,
the malice you spread toward your best friend
or when you find it hard to spell the words love

The silence steps in and the air full of uncertainty. A moth was trapped, a spider tries to kill it. So quiet you will hear a drop of needle. 

It’s great that we are now in the absolution of nothing.
If we decide to make love in the next ten seconds then I will sincerely apologise of what I have said and of the rotten things I threw at you.
Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two...one.

This is what I admire most about you.
Beyond this infinite passion, I still found a glimpse of heartbreak. It’s like a mystery why every girl always likes a bad boy.
Maybe, I have to pause in a moment or entirely stopped and start diminish this tension. Or I have to stop looking for reason of anything,
looking at the bleak nocturne and listening to the brisk of the wind, and preoccupied with cruelty of the world, instead.

I want it but…