772 words from November 22, 2015 in These titles mean nothing.

I am self-indulgent.

I am lazy.

I like to be in bed doing nothing.

I like to eat.

I like to drink pop.

I like to sit in my chair and do nothing.

I like puzzles. Pen on paper puzzles.

I like to do nothing.

I like to let time go by.

I like to see nothing.

I like to hear nothing.

I like it when there are no connections.

I like it when there are no obligations.

I like it when I don’t have to do anything.

I like it when I don’t take a bath or wash my hair.

i like it when I don’t clean lady bugs out of the bathtub.

I like it when I don’t hang up clothes to dry.

I like it when I don’t wash more clothes.

I like it when I don’t wear shoes.

I like it when I chew gum.

I like it when it’s quiet.

I like being alone.

I like having no friends.

I like it when I lose men.

I like it when there aren’t any men left for me to talk to.

I like it when life is over.

When there are no dog scratches on the door.

I like it when it’s cold outside and warm inside.

I like it when nothing is expected of me.

I like it when I don’t have to go outside.

I like it when I don’t have to go to work.

I like it when I can breath.

I like it when my computer works.

I like it when my fingers make the keys type.

I like it when the furnace blower goes off.

I like it when life becomes history.

I like it when I no longer care about anything.

I like it when I can live in squalor and not care.

I like not caring in general.

I like nothing.

I like it when nothing wraps its tentacles around my throat and squeezes.

I like it when I know I will not breath again.

I like it when my life is over.

I like it when everything ends.

I like quiet.

I like snowfall.

I like nothing piled on nothing until it reaches as high as it can get.

I like words that mean nothing.

I like to write about nothing.

I like wanting nothing.

I like being nothing.

I am perfectly content.

I can have what I want whenever I want.

I can have as much of it as I want.

I can roll around in it and clog up my pores.

I can be and do exactly what I want to be and do.

And that of course is nothing.

Nothing in tall piles.

Nothing that smells like nothing.

Nothing that makes no sounds.

Nothing that tastes like nothing.

Nothing that has a very smooth texture.

I look up into the sky and I see nothing.

I listen for the wind and I hear nothing.

I call for you and I get no response.

I like that.

I like being isolated.

I like being alone.

I like having no one.

I like things the way they are.

I am secretly checking the word count - not often but from time to time.

I have words left.

I have words left to describe nothingness.

I have more ways to do it.

I have to have more ways to do it.

Life has to be more full of nothing than it is right now.

There has to be more ways to praise nothing than I’ve discovered so far.

There has to be no limit, no limit at all, to nothing.

There has to be no limit to praising nothing.

There has to be more.

More nothing.

More nothing on a tray.

A tray heaped high with fresh never before experienced nothing.

It waves in the non-existent breeze. Its aroma wafts non-existently. It is all I’ve ever wanted and it is all I’ve ever had. How lucky can I be? To have all the nothing that I want? To have such high quality nothing. Nothing in a Tiffany box. Nothing in a Gus and Tony’s pizza box. Nothing wrapped and nothing not wrapped. Either way is good. Either way nothing is exactly what I want. It pleases me. I holds me in its lap and strokes me. It tells me stories… about nothing.

Beige. Light green. Willow-bud color. Pink to the shade of non-existence. Pink to gray. Gray to black. Night perfectly black. No stars. We are alone in the universe. The sun will never come back. The moon is done. This moment is carved in ebony. It will last forever.

Last updated January 22, 2017