findet jemand heraus um was es gehen könnte? und sowieso, jeede kritik erwünscht i try some poetical writing as i weep at night to the waving sounds of the unspoken words. mountains slide as the lion weeps. the lion is me again. we will not be perished when i eat the golden fish in the dark cold night. as long as i speak my heart is still tortured by the nails of the unspoken words. they claim for freedom but do not flee. i try to keep them silent but crash down the empty streets into a cold blue house. where i begin to listen. the sound of a fire rising is all around me as i try to flee and fly like a bird. the entire night i've never had rest and now i lay down my head. i'm tired now and my thoughts are far away of where my thoughts begun. i am free now. my escape of the dark is the beautiful poetical try of dying in itself. let the poets speak. for they are week enough. let the birds fly. for they are free enough. let me do my way. for i will never be alone. the night is over. let me rise in death. i'll die alone but rise with you.