It doesn’t matter
whatever happens in the blink of the eye
that transfers me from life to death
It’s empty.
Figuring out the reasons is
an ungrateful endeavor
because hour after hour
It changes
and ranges
from high till down below
full circle
overgrown
or shallow
may I starve or may I wallow
It doesn’t matter
between
everything and nothing
I have my dreams
and sometimes
they seem more real
than real.
