In an empty bowl full of nothing.

An eternal sink of ideas I've never seen.

A succinct inexistence that is ungrateful to me.

Soft noises that have no rhythm.

Poetry full of concrete emptiness.

Truth so in-your-face that it leaves me incredulous.

Obviousness so explicit that it seems insincere.

So shallow that it seems to smooth the brain.

Offensive affection that imposes stupidity on you.

Preposterous ideas full of belief.

Light so strong that your sight can no longer see.

I could call it baby food.

O! Empty poetry of noodles!

It fills me up when I'm hungry.

Soggy with generic, I feel disgusted.

Just close your eyes and nostrils and the disgust goes away.