Dry

I've been trapped before, I've placed my fingers elegantly against the glass.
I've swum already in ink, and I still have stains around my eyes.
My ears have yet to find silence that parallels this amorphous circle of doubt.
My mouth has yet too feel again every word afloat, returning to its origin.
I've been enfreed before and kept my head imposing, demanding recognition for my accomplishment.
I have been let go, sent away to find a better shore to conquer.
I have been buried beneath charmless crowns of air.
My ears have not heard the same melody in full sail.
My eyes have not seen perfection in utmost degradation yet.
My words have yet to tear a quiet wind down.
I've been sent away to find a better cloud to step upon.
I've been offered silvery wings, reflecting nothing inside me.
I've been acclaimed by lonesome shells beneath the watery skin.
I tried to fly, and have been flying ever since.
But the wings nail me to gravity's heart. I drop.

I've been trapped before, but I keep my fingers away.
I've swum already in ink, but I cover my eyes with fear.
My ears have yet to find noise as this circular amorphia of knowledge.
My mouth has yet to lose so rapidly every single word.
I am enfreed but shall keep my head earthward, demanding permission to go back.
I am let go, sent away to find a worse home to shatter.
I am buried beneath charming masses of water.
My ears are tired of the same maddening rant.
My eyes are filled with pointless shallow quality.
My words have yet to lose another war.
I am sent away to find a better star to reign over.
I am offered golden wings, worthy of every inch of me.
I am still wailed at by crowdy pearls upon the sand.
I'll try to swim, and will be swimming forever.
But the wings will nail me to the ocean's core. I'll drown.

Bedside

"Thee I have given all my senses' wrath;
Forgive my ranting wisdom, my pitiful mistrust;
Thou art that for which I buried mankind's lonesome past;
In thee discovered a fountain's spring one hath."
Thine voice sootheth thine betrayal, be but true
Once however told I thee in mighty bearance:
A lover's hatred is not much inclined to do
Marbled faces as mine or thine cause penance.
"I have wronged thine every utterance, in every way!"
One indeed is my request, mistake me further, I ask!
Thou know'st not how, before thine love was ere conveyed
How dull still life appeared, ever like a task!
"Then why at this moment, in thine worst of hours,
Dost thou turn me in a man so weak in powers?"
Could I, wouldeth thou still be hereby bedside?
Every hold of thine hand maketh my illness dry.
"I've wronged thee ever since I spoke thee then:
Have I reason to believe thee cured, at last?
For my words would haunt the mightiest of men -
Yet thou say'st it doth thee well, trust then I must."
I never was a heart only in a spirit's well,
My mind would search and burn even in water,
Over an ocean can but a stormy snow dispel;
Thine face hath hints of frozen reigning laughter
And I see thou dost thine best for my welfare.
"Then why art thou distant in thine ways before me?
Might I know an answer, perhaps I can bear?"
Do leave me, I entreat thine kind, speak not;
Help me see thine light, for darkness I have sought
In thee I found our truth, and I might as well abstain;
Perhaps thou and I are anything but sane.

Ein Versuch

Ein tausend Tränen im Himmel grau
und wenn ich atme, nur kalte Luft kommt herein.
Wenn wir nur mehr als wenig wären,
Würde dann der Himmel blau.

Turn

I breathe my soul out only to find
That better still stays in expectance.
Yet it's warm here, peace and grace
In this elegant sleeping draught.

Drowning

Hundredth hour, four days in a row;
You speak as if you knew the words
And their colours,
But you'll never be the first:
Present is before past;
You think as if you knew me,
You shout at the hole in the wall,
You look me in the eye with trust
You measure my best in your dirty schemes
You try and try, but never get the chance
Your efforts are on ground zero,
Sinking in eating sirens...
Never ever mind.

Charcoal

I found the laces on the ground -
Dust-proof inside leafless trees -
His manner dry as skin's ice -
His brow matching the rain -
His sound bitter and sunburnt -
His hand grasping my letters -
His thoughts flowing aside -
Never understood.