It comes and goes and we pretend –
we pretend to want it – to need it –
as though nothing else matters –
or could fill our lives more….
Mother nature fills our hearts with helium –
and so we walk on air as though –
as though we oursleves matter.
But we don’t.  Our lives are minisculeant
little nothings pretending a lie.
Pretending we matter – or to find –
oursleves better than another?
Or pretending that anything,
anywhere – something –
any creature could ever love us back!
Silly, love does not exist!
There is only “Oh, my – what happiness
being in love”  but then –
“You are not what I ordered.”
“Can I get a refund?” How to remove
a monster from your life – by the sincerely
Mr. Hyde – the doctor’s not in just now.
Would you care to read a magaizine and wait?
No thank you.  I’m late for my taping of
Dr. Oz – who knows my dreams and secretly
follows my life to fix everything there is.
Except death.  Death prevails – it is tangible –
an excerpted reality of what love would do –
if love could do – in its inexplicable vacuum.
I will not allow love to suck my brains out.
Not when I can more easily offer them to be
trampled, stampled, and stapled shut into
a schism of love’s madness.  I don’t need the
man behind the curtain – or the woman – faking
and flailing herself – moaning of love when
only Toto knows of such.  Only she needs the
wizard’s prized heart – which only
mimics the boldness of her hatred.
And the Tinman will laugh and
shit out her precious little dog.
Until then –
she knows that love is only pain.
© 2015 John Allen Richter

About johnallenrichter

I am an aspiring Poet and adorer of life, a conqueror of nothing. However I am a champion curator of truth and friendship and hold both of those things most dearly to my heart. Welcome to my mind's eye. I hope you will enjoy what you may find and please know that you have a friend here. View all posts by johnallenrichter

One response to “Nothingness

  • Sean Michael

    I’m starting to believe love is only pain too. Actually, I probably already knew that, but I keep trying for love anyway. You know. Love is the best thing ever. It’s also the most difficult. I like your poetry a lot. Pretending any creature could love us back… profound.

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