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horrible genius, trapped in salty water.
Paddle about, he, the misanthrope. Listening
lascivious voices that complain madness -
begs for mercy, for chasing waves cursed him.
Can he look like? He will not know it.
addiction search wants to miss it Weltschmerz. Silver
cooling, gold lights to Trugesschein,
forces the water into it.
swallows, spits, he yells up at the moon.
Damn the world, the depth will run.
drawn down, the misanthrope him.
an iron ball on the bone hanging
it embeds in the infinite surface.
breath of remains, mental decline.
in the end is what übirg is
is fake in a marine layer.

- A sailor

© Christian Ziegler