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nothing
Nothing
Two o'clock this Wednesday afternoon
protected by tall walls, but I have to go
inside
the sun is too hot
It is about getting a deep, lasting tan
my vanity has no limit
gave me skin cancer
I will not write anything today,
weaning myself from this feverish addiction
My internal conversation is as argumentative
as the old Jew I met in Leeds
I will think of nothing!
Sadly, I fail to stop this stream of consciousness
a lava bubbling from its crater
The smell of sulphur of rejected thoughts
that will prove me wrong
and plants shall grow.
What is nothing as it has no shape or form
no aroma or colour
I get up from my chair too quickly, collide
with the door and fall unconscious
into a void
All I now know is that nothing,
is a headache
Copyright ©
Jan Hansen
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