My world collapses. The world collapses
into unfathomable black nothing.
So simple, it defies analysis.
It is what nought is. It is not one thing.
All that is left of me is left behind.
All that is left of the world, left there too.
Crumbled, everything to which inclined.
I, imagine, that just dust, me and you.
Nonsensical, but it is what it is.
Nondescript, the state of nonentity.
All sense of what’s around me, simply gives …
Nought. To nought, the only propensity.
No time. No end of no time. My time gone.
The world not there. A bubble all along.