Rushes And Rashes... Poem by RIC BASTASA

things rush
events want us to run faster
time is silent
actually it is as silent as a
still painting of
melting candle
but the hands of the clock
creates all the noise
with its new battery
of anxieties
running in circles
arriving
at nothing

all of these
around and above me
want to make me run
and rush
to that finish line

i am not an athlete
neither am i
performer of some
incentive loading
companies

sorry, i am nobody's
personal property
i keep this hobby
wearing the hobbit
of the Franciscan
probing what is real
and spraying red paint
on what is
fake... x is
dead.