days of nothing.

I get days
of absolute nothing.
days
when I do nothing
days
when I feel nothing
days when I am
laying still
upon my
poorly
overly
decorated bed
stifled with the weight
of nothing
thinking
nothing.
I get days
when my books
that are
otherwise
in other days
stuffed with
deep
locomotion
are splattered
with nothing.
when my poetry
drains
the nothingness.
the nothingness of sun rays
the nothingness
of drips
 of rain
the nothingness
of coffee
stains.
the nothing
of my bathtub
that stand in shame.
days:
when wallace
and ann
and ezra
and william
and walt
and maya
collaboratly
with their little
nothingness
fluttering
poetry
whisper to me:
"nothing
trumps
everything."