Looking Forward To The Last (Whatever Is It, I Can't Tell You)

in a state of haste and
disinterestedness
one looks forward to the last that one can
do,
it is an obligation after all,
art turning into work
less the feeling of awe
into that
choked creativity
the eyes ache
the arms are loosened
one feels the wholeness scattering
into bits
falling
and shattering sounds
of brokenness

i know these are all not clear to you
you doubt
precisely this is the real motive
the clearest and most
accurate intention

i just want you to think some more
about us.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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