This is an ekphrasis on L'Agonie by Felicien Rops.

Sonnet on Death

Demons clutch at your rib-cage ladder

Grasping the arteries, choking your veins

Your bones are now fragile and ready to shatter

Oh dear, you're looking quite pale.

Your bloodless skin is as thin as paper

With cavities where worms slither in.

A struggling heart still resisting the Taker

Until the last light of your flickering

Vision begins its decay to oblivion

Succumbing to the pleasure it's finally giving.

But is it not called reverse necrophilia

If it's the dead that desire the living?

The underworld pathway is yours to descend -

Hail the king who will triumph in the end.