If I am nothing at all
but forgotten
I am nothing more then a memory
waiting to fall
into a dust inhabited hole
waiting to dwell in the mere
existence of nothingness
and feel nothing more
then the bitter numbness
you feel when there is nothing more to live for.


I wish I could still
splatter paint onto a blank canvas and turn it
into words
string them onto a small little string
to call it art,
but I can't.


Somehow during my fall from
the top of the world
all of my
"Everything will be all rights"
I seem to have taken for granted
what its like to crawl on the floor,
and I have forgotten how
to push myself back up.


I am nothing but a wilting flower
on its last leg of life
gasping for air
watching as bee's turn me down
for the newer flowers
to pollinate
make honey for a queen they worship.


No, nothing more but a falling star
though no one would wish upon me,
and even if they did
I do not have enough magic
to make anything charming happen.


If I am nothing more then a memory
I just want to be forgotten
so that I may
rest in my dust filled hole
in peace.

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