Nothing Man Poem by Chris G. Vaillancourt

Nothing man, who grasps the meaning
of desertion as easily as he changes

his clothes. Limp noodles that lie like
empty promises on his heart. He dreams

of days arrived and days survived. The
sun rises, the sun sets and still the nothing

man concludes his silent thoughts in frames
of coughing reference. There are people he

once associated with. He called them friends.
They did not know him. What they knew

they ended up not appreciating. He mourns
alone for other realities he self-created.

Tears can fall, but not from him. His water
bill has gone unpaid and so his teardrops

are salted channels of mould. There are
not many places left to hide, but still he

is not seen in the real world. Nothing man
of so many nothing days, how perfect is

your vision? Can you see the pain left
in the mailbox? Can you feel the loneliness

as it escapes across your heart? Memory,
that odd little word that applies to so many

different states of being. Oh Nothing man,
what a sad loss of hope exists in this sad

hopeless world. You are one of many,
but you sit alone in your glass house.