My meal is the chief of tomorrow's breakfast

Are we surviving to survive?
Do we eat just to eat more
the other inevitably approaching day?
Do we taste the lush tastes just to taste?
We taste the food
even when it turns out quite tasteless
or scarcely tasty.

 Will you sulk when I'll tell you
that you sulk for the sake
of sulkiness of yours?
Will you call me a hypocrite
if it's myself who I cite?

Is there something to it all
an elucidation worth sheding a thought?
Is there something besides what is
while it is, while it still exists?