Too oft I find
My state of mind
Drifting to Death’s door
His chittering hands
They haunt a man
The brutal dance abhorred
This feeling, fleeting
Capricious brood
Of cosmic miniscule
It’s stung by demons
The refusal of agreement
It marks me as a fool
Knocking, braying
At Death’s gate
The port of old Tiberius
I sway and tremble
Wavering sickly
At Death’s door, delirious
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