Poem-A-Day: Day 77

How Goes It?

So it goes, so be it
whatever it may be.

I’ve yet to figure it out in my wanderings,
because all I can figure
is that I am your biggest annoyance
and your greatest obsession
mixed methodically
in whatever you may want.

What is it you want,
so it goes, but what is it?

It may be nothing
as far as I can tell,
but it has to be something more than the nothing
I think it may be,
otherwise what would it be
besides nothing?

So it goes,
it is nothing.

I’ve repeated that phrase
over and over again over coffee and beer,
and I tell myself that it will be ok,
that it’s nothing to be concerned with,
but I concern myself with it,
because I am compelled by it.

What is it I want,
so it goes, but what is it?

It is something more than nothing
that I seem to can’t fully function without,
without falling to pieces in its wake
because it has me captured
in its wicked snare,
ensnared by whatever it is.

So it goes,
whatever it is I want.

I have seen what it is,
and whatever it is I can’t take my eyes off of it,
so I sink myself into it completely,
so it goes, and so it went.