The Faux Pas Press #132
Master of the Nothing
By Jason Fresh
Sometimes, I wish that I were a flightless bird with baseless life. I'd hang in the void between heaven and hell which is where I've been for the last year of my life – in between realities, committed to nothingness. Without my commitments I will be that bird, sitting in the Nothing, waiting for all the signs to change for me. No, this is what has happened because of my indecision. My infidelity has rocked and harmed those around me and in turn harmed myself. The junk I have put in my body to hide from it all, that junk has certainly defined me. And now, at the point of gun, I surrender all to the maker of the rhythm, the author and finisher. It has been oh-so-gruesome. It has been one of the worst things imaginable. And the worst? No one cares about my story or my excuses. No one cares about my sorrow. I sit just like a master of nothing saying to the void, “I will exist. And I will be here for you my love. For your love has conquered me.”
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