Another summer is about to pass me by,
Just love still lingers where the oceans die;
And every word now has to be assumed a lie –
Let go of hope, for you have long bled dry.

From the Lost Notes of the Deep Dweller’s Shipyard [New Fragment #6/Till Death Do Us Part]

Please never ask me how I keep going. I have no idea how – or even why, for that matter. All I know is this: The shadows will never tire of chasing me, and there is no long-term escape. Just now they are closing in on me again, as I stumble and sputter along the well-trodden path, bound for another fall. I can feel them everywhere, in the glaring sun as well as in the pale moonlight. The space to manœvre, or even move at all, decreases rapidly with each step and with each breath I take. I desperately clasp every little bit of happiness I have managed to get a hold on and tack on to my heart. Yet there is not a hope in hell when the time comes for the shadows to engulf me. And they will feast upon me, eagerly and mercilessly devouring whatever I may naively have believed to be mine to keep, from the fondest memories to the most intense feelings of love still lingering. Finally, they will leave me alone in the dark to rot for two eternities. Alas, they need my repeated suffering to nourish them, and so they will leave the seeds of false hope to be betrayed to grow another tree of life from within the despair-infested grounds. For where death would be the only true companion, only emptiness awaits to corrupt the very essence of my being. May the day that death do us part come soon.



The air is fresh and cool tonight. Its silence fills my head, and its loneliness surrounds me. The memories of a lifetime pass by, paralleled by the inevitable insight that nothing will ever change. The faces keep passing by and are replaced by others, but the rest – relationships, events, love, hatred, trust, the final treason, pain, regret, emptiness, pointlessness – ceaselessly repeats itself in a vicious circle.
The bypassing memories suddenly come to an abrupt halt – you. I can think of nothing else, as I behold, enthralled by a slightly uneasy awe, the goddess smile playing on your velvet lips forming your well-shaped mouth which is only surpassed by the sparks emitted by your darkish eyes. For a moment, I catch my breath and my heart appears to collapse, eager to burst the suddenly too confined ribcage keeping it. I shudder, and I am at a loss for words. I feel cold, and as I look outside, the night has crept on the sky, leaving me standing with my back to the wall.


There is no hope. I am a modern Prometheus of love. The vultures pick at my heart, rip it out of my chest, and devour it eagerly. But alas, until the next day, all will have been restored in order that the torture may continue for ever, and no Hercules is to come so as to release me.

Peter Paul Rubens 032


Als Lebender geboren unter Leichen,
gehör ich nicht zu meinesgleichen;
von Anfang an dazu bestimmt,
die Toten zu begleiten –
im Meer der Hoffnungslosigkeiten schwimmt
ein Traum aus Eitelkeiten.

Das Menschenleben ist ein Haifischbecken,
um jede Ecke lauern Schrecken;
das Alter, das den Leib bezwingt,
und Elend tausend Namen –
wie immer auch ein Mensch die Zeit verbringt,
erfährt er kein Erbarmen.

[Born as a living among corpses,
I do not belong to my own kind;
determined from the outset
to accompany the dead –
in the sea of hopelessnesses floats
a dream of vanities.

Human life is a shark tank,
horrors lurking around every corner;
age defeating the body,
and misery a thousand names –
in whatever manner a human may spend their time,
no mercy will be upon them.


A kiss could light the darkest night,
in endless nightmares full of lies,
yet underneath the forlorn skies,
I am long dead and cold inside.

[On a day like this, there is no hope: drifting away into endless nothingness with nothing left to say.]