Empty Talk

So I type in my laptop, the weapon of modern day survival.
But it's hard for thoughts to transmute into words and write itself out of emptiness.
The emptiness in solitude. The emptiness between you and the solitude.
No thoughts or dream interference. No human soul to trip you over.
The emptiness that is eternal. Without dreams of future or memories of past.
The emptiness when it's you alone in your room, trying to write but you are outta feel.
The emptiness that haunts you all your life.
You got big money, this emptiness still haunts.
You got a happy family, kids and a beautiful wife still it haunts.
You had sex with heavenly damsels or sluts, still the emptiness.
Fall in love and you think this emptiness is gone but it again lurks you from behind.
Trying to fill this emptiness you love, you fuck, you dream, you repent, you earn big,  
you become millionaire, you become famous, you become dad, you become dead, you become hobo, you become whore, you become junkie,
you become tourist, you become artist, you become poet, you become painter, you become someone great but this emptiness still haunts you.
You get drunk and feel a little more alive but the emptiness kicks you sober.
Still life goes on, you work hard, you fall in love, you talk, you laugh, you cry.
But again when it's you and yourself and the solitude.
This emptiness.
Duster barking outside. I am wrapped up in blanket to dream again tonight.
I heard my neighbor, Uncle drunk nagging his wife, out of emptiness.
In the morning he, me and everyone else will be busy filling the emptiness.