That's the flicker of death
but I'll not no never fear death
which after all has always
been advancing.

That's the flicker of death
Above in the lightbulb
And the dregs of death
Puddled in the glass
It's the crust of death
Around my eyes
And the mad mad frustration
Of death in no sleep,
No nightmares, no dreams.

I woke up late this morning
In the middle of some dream –
The best dream, I think,
That I've ever had,
The first in centuries –
So real you could feel
Skin beneath thin nightie.
And I woke up still drunk,
Dashed, late for work
And the hangover hit
On the train
And I'll not no never fear death
And I think the dream I'll save
For the final moments

In this windowless room
With one dim shitty white lightbulb
And with everything I need
Oxygen, of course,
Of bourbon, a quart
And a grubby glass,
A comforter
To cry under

Sleep is a stranger.
My face slips from its moorings,
Downward
And uncomfortable in places,
Nose a mess of dead veins
More scabs than capillaries,
Bowels churn and ferment,
Objects move at different speeds
And blur
And the words
That could have come
Have no ears to hear them.
And are stillborn by morning,
And death is the last thing I'll fear.