Death, I Wonder About Thee!

An apocalyptic ending, my death a second before the end of the world,
Am I considered a survivor of an apocalypse then? Succuor my wounds you say!
Leaden with my escape of escapes, my habit somehow radiates and attempts to consolidate
Liquid pain, maiden names, cracked paint on a peeling face,
Disorientate the masses of sores that keep me awake, but it is only these sores that register in my head,
Gravitate and masticate these sour pills that grow off my mortal coils,
An ode to souls that walk beneath me, a curse to the living that seem to love me,
What is this heaving mass that constitutes the end of an eon of parallel existence,
Exist to procreate, to create more death on their behalf, why do they curse me with their curse.
The apple of my eye is the defeat of my mind, lest I dream of other apples of other seeing eyes
I wonder and spend the twilight of twilights pondering on, feeling apprehensive and disgusted,
Death beckons, cajoles, seduces and rejects both the unworthy and the undeserved
Is it true that all men are equal upon death or are they only equal for a moment when they give up the ghost,
Ha! Kisses and Cries
Bah! Deadness and Life