Just For You

Just For You by J.T.

Just for you,

I drove the way down

From California to San Francisco

Just for you

Out of the windows

The yellow sand

Beneath-- the smile of your face

I put my right hand out--

Feeling--

The blowing

Of the wind

The fragrance

Of your long-black silky hair

Inside of me-

The beating

Of my heart

Just for you.

The Rambling Thoughts

Strolling around the garden, he felt the stingy jealousy in him. Why, he’s wondering. Why am I jealous of him being famous within the society circle? As a matter of fact, I don’t actually care about being the most popular of all among friends. Am I being jealous all this while? I don’t know and I’m not sure. I’m probably just feeling not comfortable of him having the thing I don’t want to have.

People used to ask me a question: what makes me a voracious reader? And my response always be: nothing, for I was born a reader, not genetically, but innately. 

the happiest days

Those days were the happiest days in his life, he knew it as an undeniable fact and inevitable happening from the second he met her.

If we would not be together after all those days, he thought with the typical calmness of his, it's alright, for being together doesn't need to come in the physical form, an invisible and elastic string is attached between both hearts, his and hers, they were destined to be with each other, for they shared the same string, the string of flesh and blood which could not be tear apart.

So, what we gonna do with our marriage?

So, what we gonna do with our marriage? It’s been days since we not talked to each other and I find it totally unbearable and unhealthy at once. There is an urgency in this ongoing cold war between us and one of us has to be responsible in voicing out about the end for it is sort of not-meaningful to both of us. Come on, let’s just make a deal and move on with the life for it is the selfish of one- either you or me- to stay at the same circle without moving an inch just for the enjoyment of one. We mustn’t waste the time of any of us for our youth is too precious to be wasted away with the unstoppable ticking of the old dusty dangling clock on that yellowish tainted wall; for the complexion and the body- of you and me- are absolutely vulnerable to fight against the streaming wave of the time. It would not stop for us for that is not the obligation of it to perform such irresponsible act for merely both of us as there are millions of people in this wrecked world who are in need of its service. 

She

Gymnasium of Madison was always her favorite spot. People in Madison Town could always notice her curvy slim shadow in the pool with icy blue water. She swam in a delicate manner, like what she always done with other aspects of life-- her career, her family, and her unavoidable-mentioned marriage. She liked the pool. Perhaps adore is the appropriate verb to describe her fetish. There she met Jonathan, her husband who was a politician, a businessman, and a liar with a lot of sweet talks. Only in the pool that she felt the freedom she once owned; out of it it’s a world with hands and eyes that grabbed away that freedom, only the sense of nostalgia left its marks. 

The Afterlife Oeuvre

“What should I write for my next book,” my brain stipulated an answer for that ancient inquiry.

“Any idea?” I tried to counter-demand the answer.

“Let’s write something deep and mind-blowing.”

“Like what?” my curiosity made further effort in enquiring the answer.

“Hmmm. How about your life, from the day you were born until that evening you drew your last breath? It sounds fascinating, right? Don’t you think so?”

“Pardon me, I don’t really fancy that idea. For, as far as I concern, I have had a life which was full of tediousness and dullness. There’s no single trace of Light of Excitement within the history of my life.”

“You’re wrong on every level. It did make its visit on the day you’re born. It stayed within your life until that evening you drew your last breath. You may be astonished with what I’m saying. However, what I’m trying to say is that it made its unconscious appearance to your unconscious life and the visit was proceeded until that evening you drew your last breath. And you got to believe it, for it’s a universally acknowledged truth.”

He turned away from it with his back facing it indifferently. Feeling incessantly panic, he almost got his tears out of his tired sockets. He then picked up that usual confident tone which he always used for concealing his weaknesses. “Let’s forget about it for a short while and embark for a long walk,” he suggested.

“Here comes your usual escapist attitude, nice try!” the mind mocked victoriously.

They walked out of the apartment after that.