Oil on canvas · 46 x 37 cm

My sad hands long and beautiful which were made to be shared nobody wanted to hold them
my sad hands long and beautiful

And I pity myself I pity me
Poor perfect little boy
What did I lack, not have ?
Leaving, a trace ? Take pity on me…

Into my soul descended the twilight
I was someone who had departed
I will be but as yet am not
I do not live but sleep in the twilight

The alcohol of a sleep automnal
Has gently pervaded my body
Paralyzing my existence
In a dank mist automnal

I have lost both death and life
And I am mad but not driven so
The time lived flees
I follow it but just remain