It's Nothing

and i almost
wish it would hurt
when i stubbed my other
toes now,
it would be
easier
to remind myself
that nothing is
nothing
and that the twisted ruins of
my archaic life will remain
no longer than
i breathe.

i wish
that when you read this
you would excuse
my immature devotion
to truth and love me
anyway.

i wish
you would
recognize the stregnth
in my bent knees
and the will to keep
my shoulders
just
above the mat,
and the will
to
black and bind
blindly,
letting it
go
until i cease,
quietly.