Where Nothing Lives


Photo by Emre Can on Pexels.com

There are no locks on the doors

in the rooms  where nothing lives.

There isn’t a single sheet of glass


the window frames at the house where nothing comes in  and nothing ever leaves.

Nothing is down in the basement

nothing lives in the walls

nothing is rotting in the attic

nothing was forgotten in the kitchen cupboards.

Nothing is in the dead house

at the end of the road

from where you live, from where I live.

And In that prison

nothing screams in it’s endless terror

without ever taking

a single breath.

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