existence as futile.

what could have been a space to be filled with questioning

like these little infections:

but why? and how? where to now? and for what cause?

i'm sorry world, i will never understand you

i never find ease in being within you. 

so to vision, i give my life.

with observation, i am drugged. 

with color, i am fulfilled

and with distortion i am relieved. 






i am thankful to the hog, from his hair to his hooves