Nothing matters

I will die

those I love will die

All will vanish, sucked up by the wind.

I am in a fugue:

a haze falls over my perception

I am nothing more than a body:

fragile

imperfect

slowly decaying.

Tomorrow I’ll wake up 70 years old-

a car could hit me right now, 

killing me in an instant

nonexistent and empty

so fast not even neurons could fire a second thought.

I’m gone before I realize it

whether I’m dead now 

or live to become frail

In the end, nothing matters;

tenantless

I become nothingness