Sign Guestbook View Guestbook                 Nothing is Nothing Nothing is Nothing. Nothing is Nothing. It never really ends… I’m gone from there: The malls, the parks, Math class, bleachers, Splinters, toothpicks, Watermelon, corduroy, The sound of guitars, And smell of fires. But now I’m here: Where you imagine Clouds and angels Harps and white robes. Or if you are worried: Red and pitchforks Horned men and Torture, endless torture. But these are ideas from Your world. Ideas thought up in malls While you buy corduroy Or pick watermelon from your Teeth with toothpicks While you sit, After math class On the splintery bleachers. These are ideas of your world. Ideas that smell or touch or feel. It’s not like that here. It’s not sad. But it’s not happy. Not for me. I don’t remember happy. Not that I’m sad. Explaining my feelings is too hard. Like telling color to a blind man Or song to someone without ears. It’s gorgeous, good, but not with happy. I guess I’m just the same. I watch you here, >From behind the mirror And that is what makes it good. Behind the mirror Watching, waiting Waiting for nothing Because Nothing is Nothing. There is no thing. There is no thing. But everything is something. Nothing is nothing.

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