The moments-UYÊN NGUYÊN

not a single note
draws the pain of paper
not a single thought without ruckusing my skull
the sigh of words
and the wound of syllables or
the cowardice of the writing manner
are now ending smoothly in chaos
verbs of
fragments
seemingly aimed at infinity
of frustration
a moment of
thought
moments where oblivion cannot
be forgotten
reeling in
an unstructured tornado is
the intonation of the question mark
I wonder if those
brutally fermented things remind me of
the self-destructing structure

not a single fire broke out
in the dark of sorrowful history
on the skin of the time with
the blood of insomnia wounds
no annotations written by souls
no one
in splendid moments
of death
inner battle is still going on
fiercely
not a single moment is kept
for the breath of words
on dead paper

27/02/ 2021

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