Why Do I Write Today? Poem by RIC BASTASA

same question
but a different answer

a matter of point of view
a compulsion
a sickness unto
life
a beggar of
words

everything
are glass stirring
mechanisms
they stir us into
further stirs
whirlpools
me, i am another
one

black and white
the gray areas
they are worth their
own shades
disregard the colors
that do not exist for a while
here

faces and faces
my face
in the mirror
bulging tummies
oh
how did i neglect
my years
pamper myself
with the fats of this
world
this sickness now
into death


Also, (forgive
this mimicry)

following you
behind
nothing to see beyond
meaningless
gestures.