The Art of Coming Apart - Fragments Of Unbecoming

I am closer to freshly earth below than to spirited air above

Sure enough, to breath means to live

But do i have any breath, any lungs?

And above all i’m waiting and sharing tides for a deathless while

Touching land like an anchor, irrevocably run aground admits the yet uncovered

Heaven remains silent, ground talks in whispers

Thou grand charmer-longing for this morbid flirt

Eternal rest grant to me!

'Cause nothing seems as perfect as the art of coming apart

Beneath the dead standing tree, all is covered with coal-black leafage

Ground is gone…

Somehow strange, i tough feel save

I am counting static clouds, time and time again echoing the same line:

«I envy the Calm»

Am i immune to life?

Thou sage of absurd!

I am breathless furthermore I’m sleepless!

I am nameless, lately i’m soulless!

I am about to decide deadness, my inside-a Stygian darkness

And above all i’m waiting and sharing tides for a deathless while

Touching land like an anchor, irrevocably run aground admits the yet uncovered