They fill the base of my neck

and are followed by a waterfall

which formed before them.

Streams are created

and branch out,

as I am branched out,

like a tree with its branches 

being pulled in every direction.

I am strung tight and past my limits.

The world once limitless,

has expanded me beyond.

I am straining and twisting,

leaves are being pulled off.

I am empty and screaming

and yelling to the world:

“Let this be over and over,

and what can I do?”

Oh to be me is to be

everything and nothing at all.

Why do I find meaning in

all that I experience and think?

Why is what I ask

always returned with 

never a thing.