TO NOTHING

There is an old brown leather couch along
the far wall of the living room with notches in the finish.
Cigarette burn holes march across a small section of the seat.

It doesn't recline

comfortable, but you can only sit there
for so long, listening to the listing second hand
on a second hand clock click the seconds off.

Listen to the dog lick his balls because he can,

before you throw your hands up, stand
and begin counting the steps
to the kitchen, to the fridge, to the phone that doesn't ring,
to the door, to the toilet, the porch, and back again

where you put on one shoe but not the other
because you cant find it, since you haven't
had anywhere to go in days.

Two socks, one shoe. 38 to the kitchen, 9 to the fridge,
15 to the phone, 32 to the door, 2 to the porch, 32 back.
Throw the one white rubber Chinese made piece of swooshed shit at
the only decoration on the wall, frightening the dog who doesn't realize

the scariest thing is, it is only mid afternoon.

About Glen Clark:
Glen Clark is a guy who likes to write sometimes. He can be found here:
http://www.facebook.com/?ref=tn_tinyman#!/profile.php?id=100000085106136