Weighing The Dolors From The Glories.... Poem by RIC BASTASA

he got a measuring tape
and measured the length of possible regret
the volume of remorse
and the chapters of tragedy
all possibilities that his personality can
afford
all that conscience can buy
and he found out
that the amount of happiness obtainable is obviously
lesser compared to the risk of
isolation, the insomniac nights
the cost of psychiatric sessions
and the prescriptive drugs

the wide ocean of guilt and the storms of the raging furies
of myths
him against universe, the humanity,
how can he ever survive?
and so he stopped,
went back home, sat on the chair facing the window

half-open
his eyes are empty
his words are choking him
he is gagging
to the last scene that it was him that used the gun against himself
he did not do it.