In Your Poetic Kingdom Poem by RIC BASTASA

it is not planned
actually
you sit there like
a king
with a scepter in your
hand and
crown in your head

you rule.
you do not need anyone
or anything.

you speak
but in here no one listens.
no one is here.

your kingdom exists only
in your mind.
you have a queen
like a soap bubble from
your pipe.

you are doing it
not really for the sake of fun
it is just a way of survival

you speak to yourself
and you listen.
you get drunk to no wine.
you are playful
to no park.
you sleep under the sky
in your bed
of virtual grass.

you just had trauma the
neighbors whisper to the
ears of your walls

so you know, and you very
well know
but that is just that
a poem.