Ken's Poetry

Nothing Is Real

Thinking of thoughts, that strange thing,
the brain examining the brain;
thinking of you thinking of me,
nothing is real.

Thinking of love and loving the thought,
imagining the way that it feels
to be thought about constantly
if you aren’t real.

A ghost of a thought, thought of a ghost,
consciousness congealing from history
just thoughts being thought about
where nothing is real.

Thought of a soul, a sole thought,
thinking with unthinkable emptiness
of not existing, when the brain dies
and nothing
absolutely nothing
is real.