Nowhere & Nothingness

as i stop at that
worn old stoplight
at the corner
of nowhere and nothingness
and take a long drag
of that burning red death-stick
ironically called life,
I turn to my left
and then to my right.
then realize this:

I have something in common
with these broken
who stop aside me
on the left, or the right
it didn’t really matter
there was no gradient here
at this broken
stop light

that here,
at eleven thirty
on a Sunday evening
we were all in similar places
in this endless journey
we call life
we were all
sleepy, restless
and miserable
fucking souls
racing our metal extensions
into night
into destruction
into destiny
none of us really expected
to see


Some racing
to a broken fucking
place that
someone decided to call “home”
hell, it was them -
at some point or the other
but now,
now these people knew
hell, even their deceased mothers knew
that this was just another place
like any other
to rest their broken little
heads, on broken fucking
the ironic part was,
that every night was
we knew nothing of
the happiness of a goodnights sleep

Some were racing to
their end
following an endless road
looking for their checkered flags,
or crystal meth, or some black
tar – anything, really that keep their
hearts going bump through the night
it was really all one in the same;
and they knew it too,
that sooner or later,
they’d be too tired of racing through
these broken streets
wishing, hoping
of the night they would hear their
little metal extentions screech
to a final stop
because they knew their hearts would soon follow
and death would dance
to the sound of twisted metal
and broken fucking

Others were racing
to their night job
wishing, hoping
that the supervisor wouldn’t
notice he was late
fearing that day
that he would have to turn
to his wife
his children
his parents
and tell them that this was the end
that this was the day
their comfortable lives
came to a screeching fucking halt
and they would be poor,
empty, and oh so fucking
like last Tuesdays garbage
or the newborn waiting in the dumpster
for a mother
someone else’s problem, now
left to face that cold world, alone
and isolated
without a soul in the world
to care, just care
fate wrote death on their
gritty warn palms,
and destiny,
was a bastard.

frankly, I felt
This corner simply wasn’t enough
I was racing into nowhere
into nothingness
we all were, in a sense.
but me,
I had no destination
I was racing
to the sound of my own heartbeat
until my little metal extention morphed
into the little engine that couldn’t
wishing, hoping
that this rock was flat
and I would fall
off the edge of the earth
into nothingness,
Into nowhere,
before that needle hit the red.

But everything
remained the same
we were all running
from something we all knew
at heart,
we could never escape
not even on Nietzsche’s birthday

but surely,
That didn’t stop us
cuz’ that broken old stoplight turned
and we put the pedal to the metal
and the sound of
tires burning and
engines roaring
permuted the air
and death
also lingered

we were cold,
and tired,
and broken.
fucking broken
and we were all racing away
from our own

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