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In empty rooms
vast quantities of nothing exists
where no naked eye
can observe the nothingness within.

When lounging in another room
or when a door just clicks closed
nothingness erupts
silent as a cacophony
in those empty rooms beyond.

And when a head peeks round a door
(like a feather
slowly drifting back down from a great height)
there really is just nothing
nothing happening in those empty rooms
nothing happening within.
Whenever I'm home alone I always think about what's going on in my room-mates' rooms when they're not there. I know it's nothing, but I can't help but feel like there might be something happening, but I just can't see it. Kind of like the possibility of things coming to life, also like the if the fridge door is closed does the light go off question.

Feel like there's a stanza missing between the second and third, but then again want to leave it ambiguous.
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November 9, 2012
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