Not Nigh

And here's another.
Let's add the list
and make it grow,
since it seems brisk
to add, and add, and once now more
for who could care
what grows when stored
and what else is there
what is more?
I think I couldn't
care to show
that I still want to...
What is more?
I couldn't care less,
that's all to score.
But you won't read this,
so what the hey,
I'll throw it all in
and betray
the deepest secrets,
dark ravines,
and why not also
bumble bees?
I feel as if
it's worthless now
to care and worry
what is crowned.
I feel it matters not what more.
I hate it,
hate you,
hate the score.
You win.
I get it.
Leave me be.
For if you stop and break the screen,
well then why don't you make a test
and see what answers grow amiss.
You know the answer.
So do I.
And you don't care.
Well here is nigh.
I am a fool.
A careless dunce.
I played the advocate
and fell at once.
I know my place now.
Thanks a lot.
I'll go back where
the stories ought.
I'll stay there stranded,
as supposed
of dunces, fools, and wills of woes.
And here I am,
and there you are.
And here we end
what will not come.
There is no we,
no joint voyage,
no more of this,
no last heard cries.
So this is it.
I guess goodbye,
but then again,
what good are lies.
I know you'll never
see these words,
and thus I calmly
play mere thirds.
I merely say
what's on my mind:
for I love not
what is not nigh.