Edgar, thy absence is to me like a crushing, metallic ore that cruelly, under a rancid sea of soil, seals me in sepulchral horror, on a cold and distant shore.
Deep inside a tomb abysmal, I awaken, dark and dismal—trapped am I, dear God, I’m buried in a grave forevermore! Buried here without a casket—buried, broken—yes, I’ll ask it—“Why did I not smolder out and fade away with death before?”
Now I’m sealed beneath the floor—sealed down beneath the earthen floor.
Left to sleep, and nothing more.
Someone bound my jaw in wrappings, hellish, winding, binding trappings. Feel the maggots squirming, lapping!—tortures I can bear no more! Poet, please, relieve this pressure, hoist me up to air that’s fresher, use your shovel as a thresher and exhume me from this horror.
Ah! I hear a shovel knocking at my ghastly graveside door!
Poe, forsake me nevermore.
I’ll be stifled NEVERMORE!