Nothingness at Boiling Point

So choked am I
swiveling on this chair-
the pivot of nothingness;
takes me nowhere.

I weave half-circles, then return.
What for is the meaningless sojourn?
I burn.
And never completely burn.

What for is all this that I learn?
A formula for everything!

Clinging to the kingpin,
swinging and stopping,
I trick myself into futures
that will never be.

I do not move when I move.
I do not love when I love.

I heat it up, just
this nothingness,
like it were Desire and Promise.

My thoughts, like broken glass bangles
are kept
only for the sake of keeping.