Compulsion Poem by RIC BASTASA
Compulsion
the eyes are already tired
wanting sleep
but the fingers still want to caress
the words
for another poem
a bad poem,
a demanding one
vomiting
words with no intention of making any meaning at all
it is this compulsion
the body resisting sleep
a rehearsal for death
the eyes are not aware of this
it is the spirit
that oozes in the fingers
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
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4/19/2024 5:49:18 PM # 1.0.0.1119
