There is a fine line between nowhere and nothing
And sometimes I cross it into not much.
Not much leads to none; none holds hands with nada.
Sometimes I remember, but mostly I forget
That living in nothing means you aren't going anywhere fast.
My clock's been set at half past 1926 for 39 years;
The speedometer constantly stays stuck at zero.
It's like I can't pay the price of gas, so as a result
The taxes on my life have been hiked up beyond payable.
My body's gone bankrupt. I've been bled dry, and now
They're subletting my bones to a tenant who can't move out.
Occasionally, I stand on the observation deck of nothing
And look out into a world that's not moving.
From time to time, I look at old memories
Through a permanently damaged sieve.
But mostly, I stand on the border of nowhere and nothing
And consider crossing it into not much at all.