Section of Dead Times and Poets

Salt air - August

Salt air - AugustI can still hear the screams, in my mind I bind the dance, from my lips flow the words. Through my fingers the sand falls, in my veins I still feel the rough sea. What if I hear whispers that you have returned? What if you told me you were back? Looking down at me from the cliff, I am still at the bottom, wondering how it will end? Why is this happening again? You've foiled my plans again.You sold me to the devil, you allied yourself with my enemies, you bought the loyalty of my friends. That's why I sank, no one reached out to me. He who does not know how low he can fall does not know how to live. Not one drink to drink, not one cry to drown in, not one scream, not one fist reflected in the wall. And I've just remembered Christmas together, the lights on the wall. I followed you and you followed me. Even then, my friends preferred you to me. But I was happy for the closeness we had. You were my drug for the rest of my life.  And now look what you made me do. This time you went too far. You damn well knew how to break me. I drowned my sorrows in a bottle of Scotch with my mother's ring in my pocket, and when I can't sleep at night I think I have no respect for myself. First I had to surrender to your religion, then I had to surrender my faith in it. Your love became my dying in pain. But what is dead does not remain dead. The desire was already too little, you were my loss, but you flew away like a quiet whisper, like August. Now I can go wherever I want, as long as it's not home, where my longing remains. And who's going to stop me now from running, blowing out the candles, making an impression, twisting the plot? I will no longer miss any storm, any midnight rain, any loss that is not at least a little bit mine. Nothing will change the prophecy.