Death is a constant
  and He's always teasing me.
He taunts me, dangling things in front of me
  that i can never have.
Like sleep.

Sleep waits on the other side of that hill,
  but i'm tired of climbing.
My fingers are numb
  from scratching out my own eyes.
I can finally see.

The horizon shuffles and folds
  like a house of cards on fire.
The fire is warm on my face,
  but cool to the touch.
I am alone with my madness.

My madness calls to Death,
  pleading my case.
"Grant this blind & miserable wretch
  the solitude he does not deserve."

Death is a deaf man.
This is necessary.