You look all around,

To see nothing.

You’re surrounded by nothing.

There’s nothing to hold on to.

Nothing to be held by.

Nothing to believe in.

Nothing to move towards.

Nothing to keep you going.
There’s nothing more you can do.

You have nothing left, to give.

Nothing touches you.

There’s nothing to touch.

There’s nothing that’s warm.
Nothing is okay.

Nothing is pure.

Nothing has value.

Commitment, loyalty, honesty

Love, hard work, respect –

All mean nothing.
Nothing has purpose.

Nothing makes sense.

Because there’s nothing you understand anymore.
There’s nothing to live for.

Like the vaccum that surrounds you,

There’s nothing inside.

-Ramona Arena2016.


Ode to Sunday.

Lazy Sunday
Hazy Sunday
A lifeless wind in place.

Perfectly calm
Oh so still
The senses are deemed a waste.

Cool as the blues
A mellow hum
To the minor pentatonic scale.

Lazy Sunday
Hazy Sunday
Come around, see me again.

-Ramona Arena 2015.