I am a martyr to the feeling of nothing.
Existence can be confirmed with jubilation,
As well as despondency,
I feel nothing, my existence is naught.
Arising to nothing.
To weather the day, in a lackadaisical way,
To slumber, feeling nothing.
Lack of necessity to eat or bath.
Crying is not a desideratum,
Nor is love,
As if I were drowning, without a soul.
Losing my spirit.
Losing any perception of purpose,
Deprived of the will to live,
In quietus will my nothing be something.