Life As An Office Worker.... Poem by RIC BASTASA

there are still
other vacant days

some of my holidays
are never holidays to speak
frankly

brought some records in the house
read each page

fathomed every truth and untruth
based on each word

there is this feeling that
i am punished by my own ambition

gone were the days of my pleasures
here in the now

of my own choosing, i have a mind
that bleeds blood

which i now turn into ink
blotting every empty spot in my

skin and brain and alas this heart
this heart

is as empty as a market after
Christmas day.