what to do?

when questions permeate inspiration

engulfing, 

clogging the drain like chunks of meat,

filter insertion complete?

what to do? 

when yellow bedroom is too cold for sleep

walls too barren

pillow too shallow

bony knees knocking

blue robe shivering

awake and wondering

what's wrong, where is peace?

wondering, but deep down

just knowing

(as usual). 

what to do?

when solemn, well intentioned digging

by thick warm hands

unearths the most metallic of facts

so solid they break knuckles,

their truth so ungainly

hands consider re-burial,

re-subterranean-exile...

but newborn truth becomes like baby,

screaming louder if ignored,

no choice but to cradle if knuckles will heal.

what to do?

when eyes are open so wide

you can't see anything

but dynamics?

nothing but transfer, displacement, longing?

nothing but how it is, 

was,

likely will always be?

hmm, i say.

what to do?

girly feet know...

they take me to walden pond

so i can ask my anonymity.