• Ah! The day has come
    For me to write the dreadful
    Will and Last Testament
    From my blood
    For I am out of ink.

    The thunder rolls
    Like a train on its tracks
    The soft platter of rain
    That easily calms all others' minds
    But so surely
    It cannot ease mine.

    The dimness of the candle
    Musky smell of cigar smoke and perfume
    Couples gossip about
    Their latest trip to the cinemas
    To see Dracula...
    How am I to think?

    Upstairs
    I still hear it
    Their haunting chatter
    The pellets of water and ice
    If only the end could
    Stop the flood of chills in my spine.

    Almost finished now
    Whistle the serenade for me, darling
    My epitaph to be
    What your sweet voice
    Shall compose for me
    My last verse.

    In memoriam
    To die in this dreaded cot
    As the world begins to unravel
    For I to fear my guardian seraph
    Tugging ever so gently
    At my life's heart-string.

    The disease, this disease!
    How it grasped my mind and heart so
    Compassion for the literature world
    Letting my soul rest
    And follow the flow
    Darling, my darling, do you understand this curse?

    Pain
    The one thing that I
    Cannot endure
    This moment of loneliness
    Without you beside my dying body
    Would it have been possible to end my cold-hearted being?

    Eleven
    An hour before midnight
    And yet the night is still young
    With the laughter of the recently married next door
    And the cry of children from under my floor
    I hear it all: even the cry of the madman in my head.

    This is my last sheet
    My last breath
    This now breaks
    My perfect rhyme
    This poetic death, however grim
    Doesn't match to your own unending hymn.

    Ack! The cut
    On my wrist
    Oozes a scarlet elixir
    As it rises to the surface
    Not this worthless inkwell
    Where are you, dear, to suck it dry?

    I hiss
    And turn away
    Keeping my blood
    From staining this page
    Gazing in the mirror
    I scream!

    The madman's hands grab hold
    Of me as I try to
    Salvage some air
    In the end, all I see
    To your disappointment, my dear
    Is his burning passion of death in my eyes.

    I lay on the cot
    Finishing this wretched testament
    May you find me here in the morning, darling
    After your night at the cinema shows
    May the fortuneteller
    Never see
    This toxic body known as me.

    May I, with this fountain pen
    Pass to you, my sweet
    All I own, all I have
    Is for you, and for our child.

    This consuming depression, it hurts
    Physically now, as I cut out
    This heart that you now once loved
    This heart that died still loving you.

    Remember me
    Remember the field
    At which I gave you the carnation
    That depressing flower, now wilted
    At my bedside...
    Remember me, for all of this.

    In memoriam.