Are You Troubled? I'm Troubled

I don't agree with that
I said to nothing.
There was this blankness in front
of me like the hollow part
of a hollow point
bullet. I am always sulking.
Even when I'm happy
and bouncing around like a
speaking tongue.
There is this persistant space
that is occupied
by an idea that cannot
be named. I would hate to turn
into Robert Bly, but
I'm automatic.
I'd like to drift away like a
snow drift, but instead
am shoveled.
Am pushed and stacked.
I've got a feeling this will end.