as an amorphous nothing.

a poem about the concept of not existing.

Photo by Elena Mozhvilo on Unsplash

sometimes, i do not

desire the act of

being someone

anymore.

in a reverie,

i awake in bed

and leave the sheets

as an amorphous nothing.

my body stays

swaddled in silk

and the parts of me

no one can see

are set free.

oh

what i would do

to trade what is real

for a life incorporeal.