Pondering on life, I suppose.

Questions
litter like plastic bottles.
Sit and think,
upon to think.
The dump is full
of thoughtful soul.
Given thoughts
left there to rot.
The planet calls,
begs mercy within,
"Questions are clever
don't give in.
They keep the toes on their nose,
always wondering.
Never crumbs.
Cookies whole.
When you think
and think some more."

-----------

Left to boast
of nothing beyond what I've been.
Connecting dots of cheerios
to paint portraits of dreams.
Visions swallowed hastily
by early morning breakfast-men.
Strew across the floor
by toddlers.
Forgotten and licked up
by a roaming canine tongue.
Soon the O's are gone,
digested by something or other.
Leaving me empty and hungry,
searching for supplementary grains.
It's a question of digestion.