BORING, BENIGN.......

You are boring benign bullshit
and I am claustrophobic cravings for consumption
We are
scattered thoughts
of everything that never mattered
I want you to stroke me
melt into my night
Feed me furnished lofts
and paperback writers
who preach the meaning of nothing;
your essence
analytical rantings
of contradictory lives,
conflicting ideas
Nothingness
it seeps from your pores
the stench of
last nights liberation
the elixir of ambivalence;
the fetor of moldy thoughts
I smell the vapor of emptiness
emanating from your skin
and know
that nothing lives inside your pain
gorging itself on your lack of something