I don’t need your tomorrows, not even goodbyes
deep in your sorrows and colours of eyes
lingers one of the lies that sinks in your heart
that one is just what holds inside and uneven in such
a disguise

how about you, where does your shore end up to
is it you ending there or me or a stranger who wasn’t to be
and who’s resting in the shadows of dream

but when you think of it there is nothing behind
and the dreams become just a digestion of pictures of life
all the thoughts like a mirror in the waves of a dark deep pit
blistering the need for a limit, for an end to this infinite rejection of
it

but you don’t, and you eat, you drink, you dream, you sleep
and it grows, grabbing your toes like a leech first, then claws and fists
and you want and you don’t and the vicious circle grabs you by your knees
and more, until darkness starts growing within
what used to be toes, what used to be knees, or soul, wrists or skin
and when it reaches the barathrum that holds you as a drawing in the most intimal rind
your flicker of a tiller goes out and you grow weak as a breath in the wind
to one and no one as a song that still plays despite of the death of the string

and you die and I die – you as a shell, me as a dream, breaking our ties
and our skin
until we’re fading