I am looking for a question and I cannot find it
Feeling a tad as if I wanted to ask for help in locating it
All there is
Is a sensation of a major disturbance in the soul-halls
Wherein anguish and joy yoik and sing together in harmony
The halls, though once empty, I have furnished and embellished
The jokers have now breached the gates and disrupted the gathering
How cliche! I must address the mess
What am I?
Last I checked
I came from a position of authority
I think I own my body still
But my dog's name is Concern
And Concern gets louder and louder
And my head aches more and more
When a band of impudent whelps breach the halls
But what is the question?
Is it where I ask myself "how should I presume?"
Or is it a simple statement to her directed?
Like "I wondered if you'd speak with me again after all this time..."
Well, it would be damn awkward if she said nothing to that. Abort!
Should I apologize first? Suboptimal... Abort! She'd sense the self-loathing
Which we wouldn't want Smeagol, we would not, given that
Given that
Wait, you undercooked steak, you've held onto those?
I've
Given you
years to move forward, I've laid
your paths with concrete, I've lit them with torches, I've sent out
Male mail pigeons to seek the priests' blessings
To reinforce you in your ordeal, your penance, your descent
But have I held onto those?
Or is my body lying to my spirit with regard
To matters from the script split apart
I still feel something, a nervous excitement
A stifling and worrisome alternation of rhythm
But are they what I think they are
Or are they remnants of what I think they are?
Dusty exhibits in the corridors we closed off
The last time the curator blamed my incompetence
Rather than his own
Perhaps the truth is
That even when a particular matter has been processed
It may show up at the gates again and knock
And you just have to
Resist resist resist
Splendidly done, earthling
