Endings

How the heart of me does ache
For the withered hands of terminal disease
To bear me away from flesh and bone and life and this
Existence of smoke and mirrors
I gaze upon the yellowed tendons of this world
Each pulling on the fingers which
In turn pull on the fibrous strings of my dying mind
Striking out a haunting
Sickly melody
A black lullaby that hums and wails
And forces itself to sleep
Moth-eaten, i collapse upon myself
With this deathless, broken smile
Unwavering
Steeped in unending circumventure
And i run only from myself, you know
Further and further still
Deliver me, now, god of death
I yield now to your will.