Sigismund

Ah, my fine clear-eyed cavalier-
why, is your black heart still beating?
Why have you not spilled your acrid blood,
sticky and acidic and welling up in
the chest? Come, succumb, bleed
into that devoutly wished dissolution,
the stinging sleep, the soporific burning
of hair and bone. Here, where Eros
meets his counterpart, I will wait,
for yourself and for your posterity.

 "And death shall be no more, Death thou shalt die."