Full Of You (And Thus, Nothing)

Full of You (And Thus, Nothing)


Red wood
Brick pillars to the sky
Total open-ended nothingness
Carps and harps are blown sky-high.

Two pence for a dollar
And a dollar for my needs
Thirty-one of something
With nobody to appease.

Rusted independence
And nary a thought to spare
Chocolate fondness
Going up depressive stairs.

Subservient to the masses
An opiate for the middle classes
Totality of nondisclosure
Emptiness of full.

Nothing makes sense
Nothing happens right now
Nobody sees themselves
And life is a cow
With four really big bloated stomachs
And lots of flies.


August 10th, 2009