I wonder

I wonder
yes i do.

About the things within,
and the things without.

True they exist as
much as a white elephant,
white elephants?
Aren't there those of black?

I wonder
i think,

about why the shadows loom
across the little wrinkles of that
thing in the skull

like memories? (i suppose)
or even lies and imagination.
Imagination, oh shut up,
it causes pain

of even wondering,
too much
stop.


I wonder,
again

on how the truth will
be told,
life and the future

or is it just the present and forever
just the present?
The present of lust
surrealism
hunger
fatigue
repeatedly lust.

Oh stop wondering.