Quasai Mortis Imago

Do you know who I am?
The nose knows. Drowning now
in undertows.
Where before ran the current of contrition
the slow ebb-tide of realization
and the wax and wane of subtle panic now coincide.
The novelty of what has come to pass
And the truth given in to moral bankruptcy.
Dost thou concede so easily?
Surrender thyself willingly to the needed evil
of morning and its unholy sun.
Careful caution not to wake she who once
breathed beside this gaunt face.
Aye, the passing of days is air in her lungs,
expired now as time did lilt her forward
Goodbye, my love, adieu.
And may the rocks across the sea
shatter your brittle boat upon your arrival there.
But not me.
I head now for distant reaches
and better friends and warmer weather.
I thrive to kill that which I once was.
Death be an opiate, and truth a woman
of scorn and distaste and fear.
Extend thy hand, cruel fate
that i might slash these humble wrists.