there is something in other
people that we all love
adore
even unreasonably that we like
to touch and caress with our own
hands
only to put dirt on their
clean skins
even without talking
we like to undress
and scrutinize every hidden
corner and see
what is there
it makes our heart beat
jump,
dive
collide
burst,
explode
it can even make us
dangerous as
some of them may
be the cause of
untimely deaths
of some of us
who cannot
bear
the agonies of
our
flesh
we keep on saying
'no regrets! :
no hurt feelings,
this is the lifetime
of joy
there is so much
thinking
spending
more whole nights
about wishing,
and dreaming even
if in the process we also
shrink ourselves
into minute particles of
insignificance
of brittleness
that make our eyes
shatter
nerves cut off
systems turn off
when the first morning light
however
comes
through the leaks of our
awakening
walls
we wake up
rise from
our positions
of defeat &
we proclaim incessantly
through a murmur:
'forget it,
it is not me! '
RIC S. BASTASA
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-discourse-on-pleasure/
