'Qu'est-ce-que tu veux ... ?'
and there goes the spiral of time,
endless rabbit hole of time,
lost in the space-time-continuum...
Animated but staying,
existing but inanimate...

These things that people do,
things that then they'd think'd define them,
there're so many things to do,
I kind of just want to float amongst them...

What do I want ...
What do you want?

Is it any worth of questioning at all?
For the time wasted thinking but not knowing,
not deciding,
or choosing, or even preferring,
just taking all in in a blasé observation...