Oscillator Epitaph

Through wolfram and ichor,
 I was conjured into being
 Among all this blood and bone,
 I am supra liquid and stone
 I place coins upon my eyes
 And wait for death to arrive
 Wrapped in a winding sheet,
 I wait for aeons to end
 Bound in plastic, will I be allowed
 To follow, where all the others have gone?
 Do these fibres contain all the same the others had?
 The kaleidoscope is shutting down and frost dims open eyes
 Momentum of the oscillator arm, slows and expires
 As the stream of positrons now begins to dry,
 All the vital transmissions fall silent and die
 I place coins upon my eyes,
 And wait for death to arrive
 Wrapped in a winding sheet,
 I wait for aeons to end
 Here at the waning fire
 At the end of gossamer thread
 Haunted by the urge
 To know how it all ends
 Bound in plastic, will I be allowed
 To follow, where all the others have gone?
 Do these fibres contain all the same the others had?
 The kaleidoscope is shutting down and frost dims open eyes
 Momentum of the oscillator arm, slows and expires
 As the stream of positrons now begins to dry,
 All the vital transmissions fall silent and die