patrick-rowell-quintos

The wall is a universe stuck in inertia waiting to explode and 
no one minds. 
My underwear is white and full of **** and
no one minds.
The lamp-posts lit a show of dancing dust, the ticket’s free and
no one minds.
A boy thought that the moon looks sad tonight but his mother
does not mind.
A jeepney driver drives so fast he 
lost his mind.
This is the tenth line of the poem and 
everyone forgot
that there is a wall and it just exploded.
The ruins of the wall stood like a poem.
Oh, never mind.