Recently Written 01/09/08 - (1)
Like Clockwork My body's circadian clock Doesn't go ticktock, ticktock, Rather hit-miss, flip-flop.
Time, for me and my shadow, Has always been provisional — Qué será, será.
My life makes no distinction Between seconds, days, decades; They're the same shred of shroud.
Yet my heart's clepsydra, Going whoosh, whoosh, Keeps pace with the cosmic clock.
01/09/08 - (1)
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