Nothing

Tears don't fill cups and cups,
ready to boil and froth.
They don't spill on the sidewalks,
seeping into the heads of corpses.
The sun doesn't burn them away,
into a lonely ocean on your chin.
It is a trap for which,
there is no such trapdoor.
Everything seems to fade,
where is the world?
Where is desire?
It is nowhere, it is nothing.