it feels like nothing.
nothing, nothingness, nothing.
throat extension, bottomless void,
pit between my diaphragm and my liver
condensed bile, fleet of foot, transience, bitter tar and a flickering fleck of flame.
fuck you, it says,
don’t leave me here. I will drown here.
I am alone, so alone
and I long to hear you call my name.
but you are busy.
I know.
and the spaces between my neurons and my musculature widen,
a gap impassable,
distance between stars and soil,
ripe and rotten,
rife with misbegotten luxury,
spilled over and spoiled the damp, cold niche I have called home.
the emptiness is nothing,
and it feels like nothing.
longing, barren, cold wet grass on the cusp of winter’s breath,
nothing, really.
everything, really.
I’m sorry, it says,
I’ll just go.
You never needed me, I know.
I’m ugly here, I’ll only pull you down with me.
I’m nothing, really.
really.
•
08/21/2026
•
Two a.m. and I haven’t been able to write anything worth posting in over a year. Don’t even think this is worth posting. But you gotta start somewhere.
Tofu 