The Fear Of Being Followed... Poem by RIC BASTASA

i am afraid that my words have become your fetters,
so i stop talking
but the more i keep the silence within the frame
like a painting
the more i feel the brokenness of
my face
i touch each portion with the fingers
only to feel the roughness of
my soul

i am afraid i am clearing a path for you to follow me
you think it is a right direction and you write my name in your notebook
i am paranoia
look, there is no path, this is not the path, this path is
merely an attempt
to find my world, not yours,

i am afraid that i may be responsible for another loss,
and so i quit
i still have other places to go
each step i erase like a scribbling of a chalk on the board
there is no scent in my
vowels, no color in my consonants

look, look inside your throat
there is something red there like a sunset
there is no shadow of a tree
in fact, there is nothing there
to fill the thirst
and the hunger

i leave you now,
and for sure, i assure you, you will be happier
without me

if you follow me still,
the rope shall win.....