That State of Wellness

WELL, well, well
Here we are again
Back to each other’s mouths?
You and i
Me,
The three sides
Tripod
Talk to me You
I am
(not exactly lonely
But I must confess
I need to talk to someone
Who must confess
To like me
(Silly? But I think we really need
Still
That confirmation that we have
Followed the rules
And that we are
Ok)

Well, well, well
There’s no island
Like a man
Or at least man can be a chain
Linked to one another
That chain that chains his body
To his soul
His soul to another body
A body to another body
All messed up
In the joys and pleasures
Of sorrows and pains
Salad
Days and hours and seconds
And Silence
How many more? How many more
Are becoming dead like
Everyone else
Searching for the meaning of our
Hundred ripening silences
Justifications for pains
Elevating pleasures for blissful joys
How many murmurs more?
At dawn.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!