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Nothing (Them)

L. Sydney Abel

People of the city and country cry
Everything is overwhelming
The sky surveys and says nothing
Nothing above can repair broken dreams

Sat in front of my TV
        it’s after twelve
It might as well be broken
        because I see nothing

What does Freud say...
        sit down and tell me your most inner thought
Already sat
        and no one is listening
        so saying nothing

Thoughts are provoked
        remembering seen them
Them no one should see
Them that are dark
        unbelieving
Them not to be thought of
Them
        immoral Them

The armchairs getting cold
        it’s way past midnight
Whatever’s airing is escaping
        to a world of nothing
        
Put thought to nothing
        before they come
Silence is only for a short time
Them are near
        watching
Them depraved in my sin
        impressions
        devious impressions

They approach
machines with fingers to inflict
Blank screen watching me
        time has lost status
All that Jazz is performing
        to a dripping fear

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