My Apocalypse-II

Nip my fall, when stars I stare,
In arms of Stygian thoughts that glare
At my wits. Help me brace their scorch
And then,
Grant me death, I'll ask no more!

Bring to me, the drops of red,
From corpse of my soul, in the land of dead
Hopes and wishes, and turn them pink.
And then,
Grant me death, I'll ask no more!

Hold me when I, ridges climb,
With vaunted pride, to hear the chime
Of winds that cut through many a throat.
And then,
Grant me death, I'll ask no more!

Help me breathe, the chilling dawns,
Guide my steps, as I climb on
The flight of choking satisfaction.
And then,
Grant me death, I'll ask no more!

Kiss me love, your hues I don,
Untie the clumsy knots of morn,
And sieve my life, up in your abode,
O! Grant me death, I ask no more!