A State Of Being

A growing emptiness.

That’s what it is.

The inverse of an abstraction,

But, something other than concrete.

Neither symbolic nor projected.

A Something In need of literal filling.

It meanders.

At times Fulfilled by late night snacking

Dazed online shopping,

Or, perhaps, actual human interaction.

Sometimes it remains.

And,

when it does,

It does not gnaw or ache.

It does not throb or dissipate.

In a sense,

in essence,

there is dread,

Something perfectly less than ok.