You and I
will never be anything more than
a disaster.
A part of us,
the past us,
lie dead somewhere we can
never go back to even if we wanted to.
We have become
nothing.
The poison has sunk in and has
let any possibilities for anything
steady or consistent 
completely impossible,
and we are
nothing.
I've been hollow and empty,
but I've come to form a
liking to it.
I don't want love.
I don't.

Nothing

is exactly
what I want.