Listen to the sky
To her daughter as they run
And play mold the earth
With waters and stirring clay
Do her rivers run alive

Find answers at the bottom of a cup?
I think not.

Find freedom in the freedom to choose how you will be?
Not me.

Find a lack of self in a deepless sleep, where no answers are present for a moment?
Maybe.

Find yourself on a way, to being OK, with the inevitability of everything?
Now that...

That sounds like something substantial to me.

Curled up like a cat
Atop a spinning world of responsibilities

Don't wake me from this weekend dream
I can bear the nightmare occasionally

Instead, cut the lights and turn the fan over me
Breathing one final breath into this lifeless beast

You can expect me not to hear so much as a single sound
When the new day comes with an irksome, early, alarming scream