Nothing

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Nothing

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This poem is very simplistic, there are no hidden nooks and crannies,

There are no dusty rooms in the words behind doors that look uncanny,

There aren't any letters reflecting off the cracked screen of the phone,

There aren't any subtle scents to be found in the syllables crooked home,

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This poem doesn't have a subject to be underlined by dull pencils,

It doesn't curl around your taste buds like tails that are prehensile,

It doesn't flash in front of your eyes like traffic lights in the cloaking darkness,

It's gray paint that dries slowly and makes your house ooze with blandness,

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This poem won't caress your ears with soft sounds like a mother's whisper,

The words are like static that numb your brain with it's tasteless liquor,

It isn't like clear water that purifies your fingers of dirt and grime,

It's murky and still and shows no images that get better with time,

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This poem isn't like linoleum tiles that feel cool under your bare feet,

It's caked with layers of ideas that suffered a cold death which are now obsolete,

It doesn't have smooth edges and nice colors that look pleasing to the eye,

It's simply words on a surface, all truth bared with no reason to lie,

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