Whispers of Goodbye

Fatigued coitus of "Miss-nothing" is the scene,

forever crafting emptiness of our loving idiocy.


Foolishness through white crystals,

heavenly depured by existence.

Your blocked mind now falls,

the first truth upon my breath.


Shall we jump over the mare within you,

at lascivious behaviours from wrecked ships.


Forward the under parts of the void lays,

blue as my paradise, dark as my damnation.


Will do you fly through me a last time?

Crushing your wings against my heart.

I will hear from my beats the brime?


The sunk eyes of mine wasted at dust,

because beautiness drawn as women,

sinful momentum of eerie needed lust.


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