Nothing Seems To Happen
I’ve been waiting in this room so long
but nothing seems to happen
Hidden beneath papers and books,
coffee mugs, ashtrays, pencils, paint
but nothing seems to happen
Only I move, through small spaces
Shuffling things and dreaming things
but nothing seems to happen
I just keep wondering about you
And does space necessarily mean silence?
And where do things end or begin?
And if there’s something I can do
apart from this;
these piles and piles of nothing.
And do you pretend I’m dead?
And then I’d pretend I’m crazy,
but nothing seems to happen.
Just mind sighs and then who am I?
angered that I may not,
cannot
slash myself and bleed and feel
I write and smoke and drink and
paint to keep these fingers from the blade
to keep my mouth from the phone
will anyone understand this?
‘Cause nothing seems to happen.
And it’s not time that stands still, it’s me
each day the same
And can I remember how to sleep or kiss?
I stare at simple things and dirty things
but nothing seems to happen
All noises the same, inside my head
I don’t want to think of you!
but day by day that’s all that happens,
though nothing seems to happen.
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