Questions

Why does it have to be this way?

What do the trees curve this way?

Where do the roads lead to?

Why does the spider live as the spider, I, me?

How do things end, and why do they end?

That they need an ending, how am I supposed to cope?

Where is rage?

Where does it go, and what happens?

While the new clouds form, the old ones still hang.

My hand, your hand, I cannot see.

That there is indeed a hand, clutching at my heart.

My life was a waste, a waste, a waste.

Hungry as a bean, enduring the pain as a pebble might.

Beans eat other beans, and eating beans eating.

Look, a bowl of questions

And a sizzling platter of lemons

There is freedom where nothing is right.

I am hungry, I cannot eat.

You can eat me, all you want, and eat me you will.

I will let you suck at my bones and all my nerves.

I lay out in the cold, shivering

Sinking softly into the soft, dirty earth

Hearing no one

This shall be my last announcement

The pain is beyond unbearable

The emotional pain

I will exchange the bouquet of questions for a bouquet of flowers

The bouquet of flowers awaits

All cheerful and thoughtful

A bouquet of flowers awaits, and I

Am stuck in the sea-hole where I can never relax

Where waves wash over constantly and salt is everywhere

I am lying when I say I like it

I don't like it

And will not have ears anymore

All stones, all stones

Where I don't belong

And you tell me saying "I" is wrong

It's not