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you are a nothing now,
no soul and body.
Echoes only. Memories,
that cling from synapse
to synapse in other minds,
that hover in pixels, in printed specks of ink.
Understand you made yourself
fish food, a drifting banquet,
a slow decay of flesh from bone.
Your mind became no more than mud,
no more than senseless flesh.
Understand there is nothing left behind,
no voice, no words, no lighting smile.
No hand held out, no open eyes.
Entropy took care of that,
of the redistribution of your wealth,
your sounds, your thoughts,
your kinetic life.
you elevated nihilism
to a Hirstian exhibit
and your last exhale of air
in the November skies.
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