Lovely Sphinx, Raimund J. Höltich [best non fiction books of all time .TXT] 📗

Welcome home

Are you real?

Am I real?

 

I'm crying tears

at my dark window

with the pale face of sadness,

hot and cold teardrops,

rain of the thoughts of suicide,

rain of endless pain.

 

Welcome home

at the suicide society.

Welcome home.

 

High Noon

High Noon

Silver spoon

Dead friends

shaking hands

Live overdosed

Eyes were closed

The sun ist hitting,

because clouds are splitting

Free ist the light,

ever the fight

Fighting life

Blind drive

No wife

One way flight

No cry

Moments, my

Done am I

So far

An angel you are,

my lovely bitch.

You are so far.

I am not rich.

 

I'm standing alone.

A teardrops rain turned to start.

My heart wants to be a stone,

because feelings are so hard.

 

No money, I can't stay by your side.

Love is longing, deep and high,

a burning pain, an endless fligh.

I want to die. I want to die.

The last lost love

The last,

the lost,

the last lost love

 

Lies to fast

for the host

Ahe is gone, the last lost love

 

Home in sadness

The death is always by my side,

not the last lost love

 

Love is madness

Thinking at suicide

Thanks for leave, last lost love

 

Dissapointment and pain reaction

of the wish, I've never had

I didn't kill myself for the last lost love

 

Visions and satisfaction,

pictures in my head

I don't fall for the last lost love

 

Self killing energy, red coloring, red colored rage,

hiding tractable self-destruction on canvas

I won't need her, the last lost love

 

Respectable loneliness, new page, new age, no cage

Any later a friend died, lost he has,

not me, not the last lost love

 

Loneliness turned to habituation

It's hard to long for,

long for the last lost love

 

Painting turned to addiction

Little hope between pain, chaos and hardcore

Life, the last lost love?

 

 

I go away

I go away

to another place,

to another day.

Alone in my emty space.

Lonely, I feel, love and play.

My life is a wild, endless, restless race.

Only the death made me stay.

Indian Summer

Indian Summer,

drumming, magic drummer

and burning fire

pushed me higher

at full steam

in a mystic daydream.

Living with the visions.

Live is the only mission.

 

 

On the lane

The cold rain

didn't it refrain,

refreshing my face,

cool down inside

the suicidal, insane

and raging main,

the hot pain

in my brain.

 

I'm cool.

 

I'm cool.

Lovely Sphinx

Here sucking near

My fucking fear

Nothing is clear

Why I stay here?

Holy soul, holy hole

Love will never die.

Emotions pushed me high.

Dreams and vision things

are my lonely wings.

But when my brain is thinking

I begin my endless sinking.

Roaming

Memories full of pain,

I wouldn't stay remain,

because my heart is not a kill.

No change in my life made me ill.

No facination,

no implification.

What have we done?

What have we done

on the run,

 

on the run

of our selves,

 

on the run

of our life,

 

on the run

to our selves?

 

What have we lost?

What have we found

in the ring of fire,

on the way ever around,

around and around?

Depression

Depression

following repression.

Thinking of suicide.

The Death is by my side,

day and night,

in darkness and light.

I dream and hope

I dream and hope,

in my bed she is lying.

I'm calling her on the telephone,

but she is lying.

I'm losing her,

but I'm not dying.