(____________)

No thing.

Blank.



If you’re looking for something, then keep looking for nothing.

Cause right now Mindless emptiness is flourishing.

Redundant moronic empty embellishments reap the zilch that has been sowed.

I have a job to poetically blow your legitimate mind or so I have been told.

But like an impotent infertile man I keep shooting futile blanks.

And Id like to introduce you for whom we have to thank.

For this empty poetic deed.

I’d like you to meet my hands. For reaching towards the universe and expanding my goals once Ive reached the edge of the milky way’s border.

Reader, meet my mind; Progressively expounding on contemplation and the realization. THAT NOTHING EQUALS SOMETHING.

Or so it goes in my world.

I'm the girl with a thousand smiles who can take lemons, aged spoiled sugar cane, dirty mint leaves and make a sullied Mojito.

I'm the gallivanting gal writhing in the flowers with the peacock feathers in her Fro.

I can make something out of nothing.

And if you don’t believe me, then this poem you shall not be receiving.

Cause seeing is believing.

Hearing is receiving.

And if there's a theory of input/output.

Then I'm the paradox to that equation.

When there's nothing left to do but put in my recantation.

I use my imagination, my tattered world instantly becomes the gracious bow of a cruise ship, floating away into nothingness.

My barely there bathing suit reflects the faint whispers of sunlight tapping on my emblazoned shoulder.

If you’re bemused. Here is something even more askew.

The perfect prime paradigm of nil is the WIND.

The wind in all its magnificence bellows to the metaphysical of naught.

Its nonentity boggles our unripe minds. Its nothing, yet something.

As you ponder this something of a poem about the nothing world of a girl.

Remember that existence is never devoid.

And nothingness is never something we should avoid.