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Jan 30, 2011

1 Lost track of time, my stage poem

Filled with metaphors and introspection

I've lost track of time
don't know what time it is anymore, what day
don't care to know anymore, nor count my moments away

and perhaps that is why sleep calls to me, calls for me to escape
into this world without hour hands, or clocks, or dates, or days
and I'm unsure anymore, how I came to live this way

Time piled up from one day into the next
accumulating into a mess, and I watch it overflow my life like waves

Does it really matter if I keep track, number my heart and soul
in this world, gone abysmal, carrying math in my pockets like mementos
and I wonder if I will ever be the same

The same as before my days were carried into the next
when dreams divided my sins, my rage, my storage within the days
and disappeared into the next, out of phase

but at last, I am stuck here in this junk and trash
littered with bills and regrets, in this room of mine, my stage