Listen To Their Beautiful Silences.

i do not mind at all
asking if you are true or not

it is simply irrelevant in this
kind of game that we play

where we all are losers in some ways
where we think we win in this surge

well, it is the aftermath that makes
us vomit
when we face the mirrors again asking

"is this me? " is that you? are we really
these?

we are objects. we are stones.
we are faces on the frames looking away
from each other

perhaps because of shame
perhaps because usage is unfair

but why are we here doing the same
things over and over again

less the fear because of too much
repetition and familiarity

no longer afraid what is next
no longer afraid of opening doors

ready for the next action, ready for
the next scene

if they ask, why? we answer why?
have you not known us all those years?

i thought we belong to the same race.
same human bones, same rolling eyes.

tongues in cheek, so many cliches,
figurative languages that do not serve
any sophistication anymore

just this afternoon, i remind you
life is too short, life is complicated that is
why we must put more sophistry to it

more sophistication! did we not go to place before
not for pleasure but for hospitalization?

it is too tragic. It is too wasteful.
come, come, there is so much fun here.

drop your names, shed off your bodies.
dance with our souls, listen to their beautiful
silences.

by RIC BASTASA

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