Rulers of The Vacuum

   Watch our words as they slip into the nothingness of everything and the everything of nothingness; they both mean meaninglessness. We speak what we do not feel for we feel nothing at all.

     Take my hand. Let’s dance on the thin line between sanity and insanity. We’ll feel, rendered insanely sane. And we’ll beg for the stoned pain to hit our frozen hearts, invigorate the blood, and erase the minds. We’ll dance like philosophers. We’ll dance like lunatics. We’ll dance like ourselves; but we lost that too, so we don’t dance at all.

       Tread on the past. Smolder it. Cut its throat. It’ll scream and sabotage our nerves. Smother the future; we’ll only live today. An d today we’ll last forever.

    Jump on the molecules of air, and blow the matter. Abolish it. There’s only what we see and what we feel. And we see nothing. And we feel nothing. We are who we are not and we are not who we are. We never were and we’ll never be. Sucked into the meaninglessness of meaning. We are our own language. We are the rulers of the vacuum. And they watch. But they don’t see. They never did.