Death my queen! My one true love!
I ache, I pine for your caress.
Your kiss, your womb, your earthy cove
Sans thought, sans word, sans distress
My thought, my deed, my destiny
all swirl towards your fatal end.
My song, it swells to an elegy
always always its paths thus wend.
Life, the witch, the faerie queen
She has me in her trance like thrall.
Lust and angst and hope and spleen
like whips they fall in endless squall.
Her spells, her charms, her lifeless art,
they cast me like a leaf in breeze.
I float, I flit, I drift apart;
a sinking boat in shore-less seas.
She keeps me there at the brink of death,
teasing me with transient joy.
I die, I die and yet take breath.
Now a man now just a toy.
But I live, I hope and fain aspire.
For you are there Lethe's,[1] draught.
In all my work and all desire
T'is is you, t'is you, t'is you I sought.
So make my bed, my funeral pyre.
Tarry not, my beating heart.
The end is nigh, o nigh, my sire,
T'is only till life does us apart.
[1] - pronounced lee-the (rhyming with pithy)
