All the questions we ask.
No one’s going to answer, are they? No one’s interested.
God, maybe. The sky, maybe. The light, maybe.
Nothing up there, anyway. There’s nothing we can count on. There’s that light, that’s all. That quivering patch of light.
Why are we so fucking low?
We look upwards, but what is it we see? What is it, the sky?
How can this world be lifted from us? The weight’s too great … The pressure …
The world, crushing us. Our limbs, so heavy. How can we, like, get up at all? How do we stand upright? How can we get to our feet?
A patch of light. That’s all that’s left. But what does it mean? What does it do?
Work in Progress 