Questions of substance

If I ask myself "why"
I often find no answer
or none, at least, that makes sense -
so "why" is discarded among
the balled-up paper fists
and the skins of onions rotting
in the garbage.

So might, instead, "how"
be a good substitute?
But still, if there is no
origin of process,
no blank slate,
no square one, then
"how" trickles off
into the shower drain,
thick with dirty suds
and matted hair.

Then maybe "what"
is all that is left, and
what is left is
a thing
that chokes
and wounds
and cannot be touched
or seen or smelt or heard
only felt,
like the slow sinking
of stomach into
pelvic bones and
the chest-ache
of breath caught
too thinly.