2: 58 A.M. Poem by RIC BASTASA

he has seen
blunt dreams and he
wishes that one may
finally opt for
a change,

he has seen insistent
dreamers
praying
for the realization of their
own deaths

slow deaths,
painful ones that they can
boast before
their suffering gods

somehow he thinks
that this masochism must be
stopped
but no one listens
the blunt dreamers
thrive

multiplied in millions
almost stopping
the earth's capacity for
more revolutions

he hopes somehow
that beyond this global blunting
and lengthening of sorrows
thickening of the veins
of wrong blood flowing
all creatures
the earth included
is sick only for a certain time
trembling in heat
and panicky about syndromes
feverish

and then it begins to
auto-heal itself
back to its fighting form
back to serving
those who doubt themselves
and those
who live despite
the aftermath of that
self-destruction