Nothing Seems To Happen

I’ve been waiting in this room so long but nothing seems to happen Hidden beneath papers and books, coffee mugs, ashtrays, pencils, paint but nothing seems to happen Only I move, through small spaces Shuffling things and dreaming things but nothing seems to happen I just keep wondering about you And does space necessarily mean silence? And where do things end or begin? And if there’s something I can do apart from this; these piles and piles of nothing. And do you pretend I’m dead? And then I’d pretend I’m crazy, but nothing seems to happen. Just mind sighs and then who am I? angered that I may not, cannot slash myself and bleed and feel I write and smoke and drink and paint to keep these fingers from the blade to keep my mouth from the phone will anyone understand this? ‘Cause nothing seems to happen. And it’s not time that stands still, it’s me each day the same And can I remember how to sleep or kiss? I stare at simple things and dirty things but nothing seems to happen All noises the same, inside my head I don’t want to think of you! but day by day that’s all that happens, though nothing seems to happen.