weorð

weird is worth it

When I’m Closer to My Thoughts

Here’s to the preponderance of thoughts over intelligence

These invariably long strings of thoughts

Nocturnal reflections on jeepneys and buses,

The preternatural occurrence of miracles,

and madness.

Slowly tripping, alighting from space to space

The letters summon a trial condemning the mere use of words

has the sentence been sentenced

punctuated to meet its prison and death?

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