A Confession Of Guilt Poem by RIC BASTASA

A Confession Of Guilt



i am not throwing all the pages
but just the same i am not reading them
and you say they are all important for my
meaningful existence
i make a compromise
alright they stay pile upon pile inside my
study room where
i do things that i should not have done
where i prioritize those that
do not feed me
a junk of this bread and butter thing
grabbing air and space and
gobbling nothingness like
food and stuff like that

i wonder what is happening to me now
shying away from those that i ought to love
and cultivate
my mind wonders like a meteor in space
like a tennis ball that you hit and
goes away as a point in darkness
gone

i sleep the whole day and write the whole night
i wake up when everyone is asleep
i entertain thoughts that destroy me
i write those that do not make me alive
sometimes i make a conclusion that i am getting to be
a machine without any perceived use
a hen cackling yet without eggs
a house abandoned
a polluted lake
a broken toy a torn rag doll a train whose tracks are stolen
i feel so deprived and i work hard to fill myself
this void that expands like a balloon
that lifts me up to an atmosphere near the sun
expecting an outburst where i will surely fall
like a torn condom this rubber thing that does not bounce at all

perhaps i need a break perhaps i need to be broken
to be shaken so i may wake up and feel the brokenness of a champagne
cork lid.

i've been broken you know and i have mended myself
repaired every part but i guess this is just a cycle that i have to pass through
this circuitous route
this spherical world
this ring without an end

like love, perhaps, like love perhaps that i once missed
it is messy, i know but i keep on talking and writing you should know better

well, i guess, this is therapy on the going
it is free, as i am
free.

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RIC BASTASA

RIC BASTASA

Philippines
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