Of Nuthinduin, The Empty Realm

I; a shadow
of a forgotten age now past,
yet never really was,
trapped in a realm of mundanity
and the uneventful
while the world goes on behind my back.

Yet those were the better times.
When I could escape the bonds of reality
freeing myself with daydreaming
from the chains of truth
and bleakness of boredom.

Far worse, far darker
were the times of nothingness
unstoppable, unavoidable
a hammer blow to the heart
with each hollow moment.

Where there was naught to live or die for
no evil to revel in
or good to seek clemency from
no drug, no sex, no fun, no meaning;
the shadowed land in England.

Such times were void born and void infused,
depravity and anger were unfed
while joy and laughter were lost
the body weakening
the mind numbed
and the soul ever wandering.

Such dark times bred nothing having been caused by ceaseless nothing,
they were true neutral and truly beyond suffering
for suffering wounds or kills you or makes good story telling,
but the no-time does not.
Bleak and boring, stagnant and unfulfilling.

I despaired and even death foretold no happy change.