Today, clouds were like oases
filled with unoriginal metaphors;
cliche dreams of falling through
endless sky, building puzzles
on top of skyscrapers, but
never really getting enough shade
because the sun is just too **** bright.
Today, the mind wore shoes
without socks, and walked up
and down the same tired hallway
again and again
not sure what
to say
or if saying anything is
what really matters.
Saying seems to beget
assumed meanings in between
white, vacant, empty lines.
And so today is a happy day
because, like the sky,
it is empty;
free from bad things
and good things.
I think I'll sit here awhile
and forget any of this ever happened.