About that new year.

How can nothing
be a part of everything
if there is nothing
if you do nothing
and the world just there to interact
and what
rises to the surface
is just how
people deal
with themselves
in this world
where you got nothing
if you do nothing about it
No wonder
some romance
hits you like a bus
first there is
always this surface trust
and you just talk
and they stand out
on this flattened
of liquid body
for simplicity call it water
and as the sky
you are
in charge of observing
a body
that never moves
in which
you are usually
not wild
any movement in

But this face
that swims
above the water
she smiles
with more intensity
than a sun
collapses in
their moment
of heat death.

Boiling broth
and the pressure
seems to
the natural cycle of cloud
rain and water
like someone
I wasn’t
supposed to
interact with.
Why does every
monument build
for us humans
in a self-glorifying act
of justification?
I wanted
to watch her
in satisfaction,
as she makes out
of something
I could have watched her
through the
glass of abstraction
by giving the feeling a name
make it something
every day.
Every morning
but what was the point
She felt nothing.
Even if it shouldn’t be
So it is,
new year

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