the room is
dark while stray lights
take away minutes and hours
of sun from me.

minutes and hours are all I
have. stolen, they
march me away to elysium. I
walk, I think, but
I cannot seem to answer the

questions. what am I
doing here?

minutes and hours. time
and space. I occupy mass
but must I occupy reason?

minutes and hours march.
those answers are a dream away I
know but how many hours
should i have to sleep? Until
balding hair and weary skin
defeats my soul?

minutes and hours.
does time even tick for a reason?

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Taken at Cubao, Quezon City.

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