DON'T READ THIS
by Jebediah Lamb
There's nothing to see here
No point of looking
No point of looking anywhere
The universe is empty
And cold
And meaningless
I open my drawers, examine my chests
All of them filled with nothingness
I breathe, the air is nothing in my lungs
The blood I let, the sweat I perspire
With a microscope powerful enough one could see
All the particles of nothingness lurking deep inside
I smell them
The emptinesses
In the words of others
In verses of my own
They reverberate, they make their own particular dance
They make the world beautiful and absurd
A real truth is one that is incomprehensible
Real art is one that cannot be appreciated
Art hides so far below layers of information
Behind commercials, PSAs, white noise
That one cannot discern it
Real art is written in a piece of paper and burnt soon afterwards
I hold the key to a city hanging in the middle of an expense of vacuum
My gate is my own, nobody else can follow me
But I don't know where to start from
