Don't Tell Me that I Haven't Died

You know why I turn away.
Don't patronize me now.
Once, you told me of a day
when death would end the row
but you are so consumed here
by denial of my state,
you swallow your disgust and fear
and touch my pitted face.
Don't stroke this hair; it's falling out.
Don't beckon flesh that shrinks.
Don't twirl my body all about,
this rancid corpse that stinks.
Don't try to save my feelings.
I don't feel them anymore.
Don't remind me of our dealings.
Let me lie here on the floor.
Don't tell me that I haven't died.
Don't kiss me tongue to tooth.
Your weakness to your senses lied.
I can feel the truth.