Stressed Out Poem by RIC BASTASA

too many thoughts come rushing
each wanting a peculiar treatment
one wants to be a syllable dressed
in the blackness of the
lonely night

while the other wants to be a clause
without a comma
hating the period
it wants to be a mouth open
like the crocodile silent on the bank
of the river
waiting for a fly who is lost along its
riveted ways
wishing to swallow a dropp of the
bucket realities

of course there is this sentence
without a thought of its own
the penalty
that not any of you bothers whether
mankind which suffers
i know
deserves to kill that lost fly in the mouth of this
alligator society.