Echo

For those who are dead
the planet does not exist.
must we assume
life on a lone planet does not  occur
but is it a dream?

Writers and poets
think they are immortal
by ink and pen.
But everything ever written
will rot as autumn leaves do.


Heat cracks the phone pole
lost voices turn to tears,
but dries in the sun.
White streaks of intense longings
a lover´s word goes unheard

As I sank in my raging sea, you were my rock.

I was at my dead end, when you swaggered into my life.

You said I was f....ing hot, game on!  
I am a true heart...no game.

As I sank in my raging sea, you were my rock.

Oh how I loved my rock.
NO ONE stood a chance in my heart.
There was only room in my soul for my rock.
No one even got on my radar, you were my rock.

I loved my rock so solid, so real, so strong and so loving.
My rock the only place I could rest, where I could finally breathe.

How I loved my rock, so many sharks circled me but you were my rock.
and then...
My rock crumbled.
Left me alone, left me lonely, left me forever.

My rock left me flat on my face in the dirt.
I was a game, a joke, an option.

My rock was never real, and I am alone in my sea of tears
You are my rock no more...

tell me someone
what happens when I just give in to the tentacles reaching for me
do I drown

Free of fears, free of tears
I wander freely
And happily rejoice with materialistic things
Gleefully denying the fact
That death doesn't rejoice with me