a poem for matter.
matter, why do you matter?
my fingers never touch, and her arrow never hits the tree.
and when one plus one equals three.
shrink my head to the empty space, for i rely to much on taste.
it all seems like such a waste.
Time: a hawk masturbating on an omelet tomorrow, but omelet tastes so good today.
there has to be another way.
I don't know which I doubt more.
the existence of god, or an open minded atheist.