at nights when I melt into cold lifeless sheets
after a day that was not worth leaving the dead blankets to begin with,
I submerge myself into the plane of forever
nothingness
sink past the oceans of tears
past the spires of faith
past the forked path of good intentions
and fall into black
where all the is, was, will be's
of anything's everything are
nothing
and the matters and heartfelt lies and the inquisitive sideways glances
dissolve, like the grape tablets
my mother used to give me for the cold, into meaningless
nothing.
eventually those memories, pallid with age become
nothing too
and inevitably,
you, too
become
no
thing
.