Nothing

There’s something deep inside of me

I imagine, when I close my eyes,

That I can feel it throb and squirm;

Somewhere, deep inside of me

Throbbing, and squirming, like my lover.

They wheel me down a corridor

That once shone antiseptic white

Lit by rows of flickering lights

In intervals, on the ceiling.

Light, light, fan, light.

Cobwebs in the corners.

I look up at my dirty sky

And one by one, my stars fly past me

Squeak!, Squeak!; a jarring jolt - one of the wheels is bad

And I’m feeling kinda drowsy now

A few minutes ago

A fat, frowning nurse with a stern, tight mouth

Pricked something into my forearm.

Now I’m floating by the ceiling

And I touch each passing star.

 

There was something deep inside of me

Now I probe, and feel nothing.

Just nothing, and hollow,

And oh, so tired.

Just nothing, and hollow, and empty.

I rack my brain for what is lost

I search my memory - I try to think back;

Just stars, and fans, and fade to black

Now there’s nothing but nothing

Where it used to be

I feel like someone scooped out my insides with a spoon

And left me as hollow as a pipe.

My sister smiles sadly down at me

She squeezes my shoulder -

The pricked one, and I gasp -

She whispers something about strength

And bravery, and s**t, into my ear.

The stern, tight-mouthed nurse

Walks past carrying something

Something squirming, and throbbing,

In polythene swaddling…

 

There was something deep inside of me

And now there is nothing.