i turn off the ceiling lights
prop my feet on my bed
listening to old jazz
i lean back and bring
myself to reality for a moment
desire is so overwhelming
yes, writing my thoughts
before it fades away to nowhere
recollecting, precollecting, sorting
i have enormous, time not enough
would it be worth doing
when half of it would be irrelevant
dream is what drives me
my tribe did this in their generation
it's unwritten arts, tongue and lips
i would be the first one to write it
i know many soon would follow
because i am manonton dalan
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