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Writer's pictureTim Xiaotian Fan

12*4 Hours’ Curse and Course

-03.16.2023-


Shall I sue those mechanisms in dotage

As their excuse for my punctured sandglass.

Paying nothing, fluffy buffy vouchers.

Let vulgars bulge inside voracious votes.

Is vaunted victory of the villains?

Or haunting vanities, veiled populace?

Dealt not should fiat or law but conscience

Devoured. By no means unravel ever.

Time is gold, said all; doom you, gold burglar.

Blaming not you, puppets of capital.

Never know what misdeed you devoted.

Absent ten times could salve no more than sole

Compensation but genuine sanctions

On the Joker. Sacrilegious poaching

Is dear beloved twilight; isn’t their own

Crepuscular crew?

So when mellifluous, crooned spiel has brought

The dew in your moody, innocent looks.

Was myself as blind as those overlooked

One’s opal? Confused by my dreary limbs

Profused stray nuggets, diary, and logs

Of packed cargo, those who I was among.

Denying stroke and thus I flow inside

This trance of narrative and expletive

When indignant plethora overblows;

When fathomed not my fume but opaque fogs

Throughout the incessant rummage around

And along the heartbroken carousel.

Or every dot behind every letter,

Every word and every sentence results

From whale without my will?

Then their vanishing visage ends vainly

In freedom, despite nowhere could have gone.

Then their ephemeral essence visits

by ravenousness, charging me to quote.

Then delve in, to retrace and to remain

The bum resentment and refreshing role.

As genies annoyed me once not enough

And foregone accuse, like facets of me

Caressed and cocooned. Decomposed boulder.

Left only finicky physique and phobes,

In phones and somnolence.

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