O, Come thee, hand of Death, to wash from me
This stain of living. Purge the grime and rust
And grease and filth from my pure skin. O, Come
You monster, free me from my own dependence.
Please take from me the thought that my thoughts matter.
Please free me from the notion that this means.
O, Death, please take, please hand of Death remove
This love for something that does not exist.
And yes, I know the hand I call is mine.
And yes, these fingers clack the instrument
Of my destruction, washed with brown and fear
And sentiment. I know I've given life
To that which shall consume me