I Create

Unusual thoughts about death
I feel it again - the unceasing shivering
I must open the gate to emptiness
Where no thought is a sin

To give way for destiny and to die

I create my images
I create my own death
I'm killed by the sick desire
I'm buried with bad images
An emptymess is the light of my life
Paradise of the dead has opened

No suffering
No illusions
There is just the weeping