Questions

Imagine yourself to be the earth after rain,
and your skin its surface.
There are insects crawling out in multitudes,
Some crawling over you, some half-in half-out
and some still inside, throbbing.

My head feels that way tonight,
the insects questions.
Some that I have asked, some I am yet forming,
some that I know would show up.

You could kill them, but they're infinite
and breeding.
I am amazed the mind can still hold up
their weight.

I am so lost among them, that
if god was to come down and say
"Ask that one question, child,
that you would like answered tonight?" -
risking impudence, I would have to ask
"Just what is that one question, god,
that I would like answered tonight?"