Abstract

on the spot

 Nothing

Know nothing

I know nothing

Nothing that seeps his way into everything

And into nothing all at once

Sweet peas, Louis!

My little home is corrupt

By nothing

Nothing is inside my brain

Nothing

And nothing

Seems to make sense

Perfect

Perilous

Peril

Slide into me and my range of consciousness

Bore me into the realms of the unknown

And pierce me

With your knowledge of something that is rare

Sleep

Little lad

And sleep well

My nonsense seems out of sorts

And I am not making sense to the people around me anymore

And I am afraid they will chase me down with their auburn sticks of dawn

And tell the sky of the hideous things that I’ve done

And when they do, the sun will be afraid of me