Obsession, Compulsion, Poem by RIC BASTASA

when we do not care
even outside the fence
the vines shed off flowers
leaves
what will be left are
dry roots
bravely sticking on the
walls
black ants moving too
away
each morning some dews
care for a visit
but it is the most normal thing
that happens
no talk
there is no conversation
in the world of the living
acidic guts
bitter choices
something is coming
we fear
it is shadowing us
on open mouths with sharp teeth
about to eat us