Questions (or The Exploding Thing)
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two hands swirl into the air
tracing patterns in the empty molecules
there could be shapes
if we could see those tiny waves
we'd know
could it be the meaning of life?
hopelessness is too easy a lover
she really hates to say goodbye
she dances around the kitchen
stirring up a warm excuse
will i always be me
the great machinal here
it works
all the cogs together move
to an unknown end we grind on
motion-blinded to propinquity
i don't know
should we stay forever?

Lukas Andrew Bryson
Two and a Zero and a Zero and an Eight