I don't know what to do.
I am sleepy.
My thoughts are flying over the naked trees
like butterflies on the strings
in the blues of the rainy sky.
Stupid.
Like me.
Like you.
Whose fault is it?
Just ask...
No answers.
It's a pity...
What's up?
What's on?
Just questions.
Nothing more...
Pozn.
...it was written on the highest floor of one special building in Bethesda, Maryland, on January 8, 2007...
