Nothing

I’ve run out of words.
I sit and look at nothingness.
I look at my heart and there is nothing…
There is nothing.

Everything that I could have said has already been said before.
Everything that I should have written has been written.
There is “nothing new under the sun.”
The sun has eclipsed the moon and left me sitting in front of a blank page.
Sitting in front of a blank page.

I wait for the right words to hit me. For the pen gods to smile favorably on my hands and create some poetic **** that shakes me back to life.

So I sit waiting.
Typing.
Writing nothing.

You said “you can get anywhere
from anywhere.”
Why am I still here?
Why am I still empty?
Why won’t the right words come?
Why can’t I write?

There is nothing sitting in front of a blank page writing nothing.