I am not yet dead; O fear me: fear me as the spider spins its utmost,
O fear, fear the spinning of my head.
I am not yet dead, dissolve me:
dissolve the man I am that night may shear away my span, that the darkness
might persuade the devils I have made; O, dissolve, dissolve the man I am.
I am not yet dead; destroy me: destroy me in the way that lovers do, in
the manner & the kind of the unrequited grind; crush me, burn me, entirely
umake me, that I, devolved to darkness, might repine.
I am not yet dead;
console me. Console me with apples, comfort me with tears; come, console
with the leastmost dream you own, with the leastmost dream you have;
console me that others may not die; console, comfort, endure me, make the
agony there lie down at last; come, console me with your plea.
I am not
yet dead, enhearse me: enhearse me in the parts that the actors cannot
play nor watch nor own; as the actor speaks, let your sadness spume, let
curtain rise & rise; enhearse me in the spotlight that shines in the
fly-towers forever, nor ever cease the mania in the green-rooms, the mania
that sings & wails; enhearse me in the old ways, in the damage
present existence; come, enhearse me as you will, as you condone.
I am not
yet dead; O fear me, let not the madness of my life contest the pretty
words you rhyme, nor those pretty words come near me. I am not yet dead; O
kill me. Kill me with the strength that comes to cherish love's decree;
let now no fear depose you, no word ignite you, no insult
come kill me with your passion, your beauty & your love; let nobody sway
you from the place you tread, from the streets you walk, nor even from the
lover you choose to hold;
kill me, kill & kill again, as much as you
are lovely, let your wonder strike me cold; allow, as much as you allowed
my dreams, this light in my heart to
end; & if not kill me, then do not
perturb the death within me, & if not kill me, then do not disturb the
dying that becomes me.
Let no man tell you that
you should not kill me;
come, kill me, rend me, or else adore me.