O' God, how sweet is the whimper in your voice,
not but moments before the expiry of my numbing limbs?
O' how the torpor has spread thro my body and mind.
Tho I can still sense the blood seeping from my veins onto your fingers,
I have become cadaverous in my waiting.


Tho the monitor cannot exchange words for my own,
I wish you to know my deepest affection
for seconds are left in my misery.
I request not to be void of your presence, but of affliction.
O' God how you have abased me.


O' how I lust for the taste of your lips, tho
the recess of my burden comes a moment too soon.

And o' God how bitter your whimper has become
in my moment of decease and abandon
when the only sensation in my cadaver
is the sensation of nothing at all.
 
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