It comes. It comes. The boat. I see her.
The ferryman waves me in.
I see. I know. I go to greet her-
In the art film of my life, I'm finally at, "fin."
Infections spread from lack of care,
I told not a single soul.
Outside my head is burning up and yet I feel so cold.
I think I'll rest and say goodnight.
It's love like a fuming parisian-
Swish and slide across Styx to light
And onward to Elysian.
I'll rest in love with death's escape
And fade away should I ever wake...
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