What Do I Mean to You?



Not by words that could be heard,
By words which you should directly listen 
I do haptly heed you, take from them what you want:
Cum grano salis,
Like the salt you mean to me.
No! salt means much more,
Salt has many uses.
You are less than what you were,
Do whatever you please.
To you both I bade adieu,
But for what dare ask you?
Nothing is what I need.
I am better, yet may never
be fine.
Isn't this what one should call obvious?
bide me none anymore,
For it is long since due.
Termination of a sentence;
A period neither felt nor heard,
But surely it can end what's done.
This is the nothing I ought do.
I am here for no one and me.
The nothingness I am is there.
Your thoughts and insufficiency,
A dot on paper to accompany the space I am.
I am here but what am I? 
This hollow blankness?
This frozen air around an empty world?
The words that mean nought but sound...
Mine is a world that floats nowhere,
but sinks in its own black void.
Somewhere in the sadness dreams are found,
for those who know how to fly but never did try.
We are the alienation I feel;
The hole in the paper,
That supports a space.
The paper is crumpled
like a day long ago,
Many lands past.
Part of this be emptiness,
The rest is just an imagining of them.
You are a this,
I am just passing by.
I am as well here, 
Here I sit, dazing alone.
It is far away.
Gone like the absence I feel always.
I see it, but I am nothing.
Like this tremulous thrumming,
That echoes from nowhere.
The clock's mirrored tick;
The tone of absolution,
Absolved like the rest.
All thoughts dying...
By what fate brought me here?
This, lowly of lowest form.


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