in what words do I write my exhaustion
the slow rhythm of a well-meant and frayed ticking clock
the poetry of my face as I see my opportunities fade,
and the tone of bored midnight as it comes once again.
my exhaustion is a fatherless thing,
born out of all the ghosts haunting my flesh;
the kind of weariness that sets deep in the bones
but for nothing, just to remain languishing there.
and much like these words, my exhaustion has no point,
no defining purpose to give it any color.
and much like my exhaustion, all of these words
will soon go to sleep.
It’s 1AM. Here in Manila, after catching the last showing of Crazy, Beautiful You in the cinemas. It was a good film.
Things that are also catching: exams, relationships, GHD and the future.
jari m 