<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=490874" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Monosyllabic Monologue Of The Self</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">IT IS 11: 46 p.m. Philippine time, <br>i wake up feeling so congested, <br>messy, perhaps it is all about the dream<br>i just had, <br>climbing a very steep mountain<br>to take something<br>that i have forgotten<br>and then i go down<br>only to remember<br>which way, whichever<br>the feeling of being exhausted<br>so unlike the washing machine<br>or the egg beater<br>and the blender<br>all mechanical without complaint<br>of being overused by its<br>master<br>so unlike me, oh, here i am again<br>complaining about my<br>existence, the worm that waits<br>smiles<br>wanting to get even with me<br>there is something wrong i know<br>in this monosyllabic monologue of the heart<br>empty like a soccer field after the game<br>one shadow left<br>still looking for the ball<br>the noise fading in the horizon<br>light is taken back<br>yet the sigh is still insisting<br>that something is left<br>like a coin or a cigarette butt<br>nonsense<br>he strikes back, stupid foolish<br>sigh, and arms<br>emptied of content like a<br>soft drink bottle<br>left out waiting for the garbage collector<br>to pick it up<br>nonsense, now i must say<br>waste of time<br>loveless still.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ric+S.+Bastasa">Ric S. Bastasa</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=490874" data-title="Monosyllabic Monologue Of The Self de Ric S. Bastasa" data-description="IT IS 11: 46 p.m. Philippine time, i wake up feeling so congested, messy, perhaps it is all about the dream i just had, climbing a very steep mountain to take something that i have forgotten and then i go down only to remember which way, whiche..."></div> </div> </div>

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