A Black Box
J
john tiong chunghoo
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somewhere in my frame
a black box that clocks
my every heartbeat
every wink of the eyes
every single hair that sprouts
but sadistically conceals
all the vital numbers from me
somewhere in my frame
a black box that counts
every of my pores
everybody i am going to meet
and the exact second i am going
to kick the bucket but allows not a single
shard of light to escape the stasis, the black hole
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