Crumble the pages until the trash is full.
Break the lead until you've hit the metal.
Is this art?
Is it a masterpiece, or a catastrophe?
What is happening? It's sickening, it's maddening.
The gestures are uplifting, they're flattering.
The shovel has stopped digging due to a new-found rocky surface.
Looking up, I see nothing, climbing has no purpose.
Is this a hole or a cage in a circus that doesn't travel?
Do I wait for the cement to turn to gravel?
Are these questions being answered with life lessons?
Can hopelessness be disguised as a blessing?
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