a poem about nothing.

this is a poem about nothing. this is a poem about something. both of these can be true at once. nothing is a wonderful something to write about. which is to say that this poem will go round and round; you have been warned. this poem is an action to inaction, this poem is a chemical reaction between the world’s strongest acid and its most corrosive base. this poem is a drop of water in an ocean. it is a grain of sand in a desert, another undiscovered planet in the vastness of space. which is to say that every something is simply a million little nothings. this poem is a blank slate and with every word I am adding on to its negative space. this is a poem about nothing and therefore about everything. which is to say that to appreciate the beauty of a silence I must be willing to break it. which is to say that this poem is a canvas that is painted over and over with its exact shade. this poem is formless in its rhyme and meter in an attempt to portray the very nothingness it tries to convey and quantify. which is to say that there’s nothing to see here. the most colourful I can be is white. this is a poem about nothing, so it’s alright if you don’t understand what I’m trying to say. just know that I am trying to speak. I am a poet like a newborn baby is a human being and this poem is my first cry out to the universe. this poem is my nothing, and it will go on as long as someone is willing to listen. which is to say that there is no one quite egoistic like a man who spends too much time only to say nothing at all. which is to say every artist is a narcissist but we differ in our vanity. which is to say I have nothing to show you. which is to say I hope you’re still looking at me.