I don't want to die

So fascinated by life. Moved to tears by a cluster of rosy-red brambles laced with silver webs, or of morning beads sitting silently upon grassy blades - housing tiny worlds of light.

The crinkling folds that surround pale blue eyes - alive with the wisdom of age.

I don't want to die. To live is to be mesmorised.

But I can feel that my end is soon. Lifetime of silent physical suffering - torturous, excruciating, unbearable. Punishing, hating myself.

No tearing out my hair, no crawling up the walls, no blood-curdling scream. This would be sudden death. 

Only silence. Silence is safe, until it kills me. Insidiously and mercilessly. The end is soon.