Uplifted from within my own
empty cavity of
jaded teen angst and apathy
apropos of nothing
but pure want for something.

It isn't something that strikes
my nerves.
But the nothing that hits me after
like a train that provides stimulant
more twisted than any cut *******.

I seek through this
nothing.
Beyond
for Something but
not anything, it cannot be anything
else I would have Everything.

And I don't want everything
I want something.
But more likely than not,
that illusion, expectation, prediction of
something.
Dwindles down to nothing.

And still my synapse fire like
glistening pistons, kicking up passion
and biblical transgression
to steal their eye
and upon the apex of this nervous mess
and on the back of what I want to see
I see nothing and fail my own sense of
Anticipation.
And again I am left tense and uneasy

Walking alone. Trying to seek my something
always finding nothing.