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.