Litkicks Message Board Archive


Posted to Poetry

It’s not enough,
these poems, these things
Its’ not enough to make me happy
Nothing makes me happy
I don’t mean No Thing makes me happy
Just Nothing.
I drown in it
and find content
in my inherent lonliness
all the clowns
and all the jokes
in all the world
could never hope
to bring my mind the peace I find
in Nothingness-
In Nothing.
I smile
I laugh
these things, they fade
gestures fall flat
disappear from our lives
in the quietness you’ll find
the constancy
of Nothing.