Cover /-ʌvə(r)/

"Don't judge a book by it's cover."

I'm thankful that some of the best book I've known have poorly designed cover.

That way, I can still find it at the same spot unmoved.

"Do judge a book by it's cover, you're doing me a favor."

Bacteria /bækˈtɪɻ.i.ə/

Hey Jo, I have an idea. I know it sounds absurd but I would want nothing else than this. It's relatively simple and won't cost you any penny, except for the container which could be anything.

So, all you need to do is grab a container. I would prefer plastic bags or small plastic which can hold air in it. After that, you just swoop it around you. Let it gather the air at where you are. And quickly cover it and sealed tight. Now, you need to make sure you can safely bring it back home. As long as it doesn't pop in your way. Be careful.

You know how amazing that is?
We just transfer micro organism out of your region and we can enrich the diversity in where I live. Those bacteria, virus, or other small thing that we can't see just travel across the region which would not possible without a host, in this case the air you gather.

In case you're interested in doing so, let me know.

Sincerely your silly friend,

ʇnqsıs

Sleep /sliːp/

That time when the weight of your eyelids is more than the usual.

You close your eyes.

Your mind tells you not to do it, especially in public places.

You can't help yourself.

You start losing your consciousness.

The voices started to fade away.

You're not aware of anything.

You can't think or choose not to think.

Time goes by yet you don't know.

You let go of it all.

Earthly stuff can't hold you back.

You don't know how it feels. It's not peace, not calm, not danger, not fear, nothing.

It doesn't matter anymore.

Then you wake up. 

Only at that small moment when your body and soul started to grasp everything to make sense of anything. Brainwashed then rewritten in less than a second. Such a marvelous system yet cruel exist in everyone.

Sleep.
I miss that time.

"I love sleep. My life has the tendency to fall apart when I'm awake, you know?"

- Ernest Hemingway

"Ah, I think I missed the station again.."

That time when you woke up in the wrong station and had to take another train to go back. Bummer.

Mother /ˈmʌðɚ/

I still live with my mother. It's not something to be proud of but I love her, I really do. Although, I've been mean to her and take most of her time (seconded, compared to grandma). 

Sorry Mom, I wasn't that much of a kid but there's only one of me and only one of you in this world

Mother = Reality Check 

for me

"

 Wash your clothes.

Clean your room.

You have such an ugly face.

Why are you so fat?

Do something, it's irritating looking at you sleep all day

WAKE UP!

Do your homework.

Study harder.

Finish your studies.

Better luck next time.

Do you want to eat something?
I'll fix you a dinner.

Let me give you a kiss and a hug.

"

*No, I don't have mother-complex.

Stuck /ˈstʌk/

The same spot, here I am again.

Change? You're cruel but you're nothing against me.

The same song, State of the Art.

No, it's not.

Happiness dysfunction, a liar on disguise?

You put on quite show called life.

Who is she?

A monologue, conversation between me and inside me.

Are you there?

A bunch of nonsense, you're not making any sense.
It hurts, restless.

Mosquitos.

Memories.
Neuron.

I wanna go back, reverse forward.

Irony = Contrary

Time's up, chav.

Thanks, Gotye

Homesick /hoʊmsɪk/

• That feeling when you look at the door, even it's a distorted and somewhat asymmetrical you still walk your way to it.
• The lousy handle, you remember this hard-to-open door. That time when you're locked and you can't get inside. Sigh, I broke the handle again.
• Sometimes you touch the wooden surface of the door, it looks used and ugly. But it'll stay that way for couple more years ahead.
• You start to look inside, sometimes it's clean but most of the time it's messy. The only thing that is taken care of is your bookshelf. Other than that, just wait there on the floor. I'll fix you soon enough.
• The laundry is still waiting, You had no undies for tomorrow. Screw it, I still have the "side-B" for tomorrow.
• That leather chair that looks comfy but rarely used and blocking the way. I should get rid of it someday.
• The bed, well I changed the sheets so it's tick free. But the feeling when you fall or crawl over it, amazing. As you lay there trying to catch some sleep.
• That noisy fan that's making ringing noises, now you're used to it because you can't shut it off.
• Hey TV, this time you're the one who have to watch me.
• Your second favorite spot, the place where you communicate with the rest of the world. Exaggerating? Maybe, but that's where you lay and spend most of your time in the room while sitting on that hard wooden chair.
• The smell of the room. A longing smell triggered by what you see.
• You can see sun rays peeking from the small airways near the bookshelf, at certain time it blinded your eyes with yellow light. I need a window actually.
• The comfort in your bed, even if it's only a single bed and not too fancy you still miss it, especially after all those hard days.

You know where this is. I probably should've name it Roomsick.

Tree /tʃɹiː/

You caught my eye while I'm starring at nothing.

Moving with such a slow swing along with your leaves.

I don't mind staring at you unmoving.

But when the wind come, as if I could hear it.

I could hear the sound. The sound that you're moving, I could imagine what it feels like when I'm looking at you.

Why do you move in such a tantalizing way?

- A tree across from where I sit.

Banana /bəˈnænə/

I want to make a cult.

Where our god would be a banana.

When it's time to worship our god, we have to sit in the toilet and pray.

Any kind of prayer will do, besides banana had different language in different continents too. So there would be a lot of public toilets built for the sole purpose of this particular religion.

And I'm one step closer in world domination.

*We don't have particular set of rules, maybe our foundation would be based on humanity or idiocy.

Wednesday /ˈwɛnzdeɪ/

We were so good playing with words instead of picture. 

Telling lies than presenting ourselves for whatever we are.

Maybe that's what they asked from us, what they want, what they taught us to do.

A machine to sell, not a human to create.

That's why we never compete. 

We're never a human being to begin with. We were ripped off from what we believe.

We use clever words to communicate, we never remember that there are thousands of people out there. 

Do we all speak the same language?

Are they clever enough to understand what we meant?

What do you truly want?

A perfect lie or a blatant truth?

Too bad, we're so busy with our little group.

Too bad, we're so ignorant and full of ourselves.

Too bad, we proudly call ourselves architect.

Pepper /ˈpɛpɚ/

Humans are like flavors.

You can't be a good person forever; because that way you're nothing but a grain of salt.

You're everywhere and everybody knows how you taste.

Even if you are evil, lustful, rude, or helpful; you have your own flavor that differentiate you from this world. Like one specific spice; you won't be replaced. It's your uniqueness that will make you taste delicious.

p.s. I like chili more than sugar.