I Could Not Stop For Death

The ferry I was on to and from Lampung didn't go under the calm water's surface. The gigantic trucks along the winding Sumatera roads didn't hit my car. The car's braking system didn't seem to ever fail to abruptly stop at every sharp turns or whenever it needed to. The poisonous King Cobra I saw at a snake show didn't sink its sharp teeth in any part of my anatomy and release its venom. The elephant I took a ride on didn't stomp on me. The abundant durians I ate like there was no tomorrow didn't give me artery block causing a sudden heart attack. Bought from some dusty roadside stall, the expired chocolate bar I ate didn't food poison me.

I'm still alive. I don't know whether I have to be thankful or infuriated.

I think my soul is still gonna dwell inside my body for quite some time before I finally have enough nerves to run myself toward a fast moving train. Being alive is fine by me, as long as there are lethal songs to darken the darkest hours. As long as there are more chances to sit on an upper deck of a ferry as watching the magnificent illusion of the sun going down caused by the world spinning round. (I'm always looking for the sun, aren't I?) As long as there are capitalist commodities to self-destruct, ie. cheese cakes' orgasmic sensations. All I have to do is abandon all hopes in everything. Including ever finding comfortable, new shoes that work visual wonders to my not-so-sexy feet. Let alone having a new spring in this black abyss. There's nothing much new under the sun, anyway.

But I'm jaded. Don't you angels of death think I'm better off being breathless?