I am a mossman.
Sometimes i am green, sometimes yellow, sometimes gray but always alone.
My horizon touches into the far nihilism.
A place where sunlight is absent and never burns my eyes.
No signs of life, just the falling of leaves and the cries of the wind.
Snow, rain, stars, i have seen it all
but the light, i have never seen.

No dreams to follow, no objectives set, no plans, nothing.

A depressing jest......
just me, myself and the lethargic landscape.
Anchored to the bark, drowning in a sea of time.
A year is an hour..... an hour is a year....
Does not matter to me...
I am not going anywhere.
Mij destination leads to a No man's land.


I am a mossman.
Gazing at the starlit sky until my insomnia slumbers.
Dancing deadlights disperse their euphoria.
And twilight fills with the rusty perfume of melancholy.

Now the fragrance pierces my nose.
That typical rust smell, cascades of scarlet ripples on the floor.
Glittering rubies dripping past my window like the morning rain.
Glassy eyes gazing at a marble skin, that touches like graveyard leather.
Fits the interior, fits my mood.
A shaking hand loses strength, loosens its grip.
Eyes on infinity, through the window, at the dark, at the moon.
One last exhale, curtain call.
Falling forever...


I was a mossman...
Sometimes i am green, sometimes yellow, sometimes gray but always

alone.