It keeps on raining – a constant stream. It never ceases. I see the steam. Things are boiling underground. When they reach the surface, they barely make a sound. A trifle’s smaller still and yet, I cannot stop thinking about it. It consumes me completely. I am my thought. My thought is nought. And thus this existential dread. I try to remain calm, try to keep a cool head. You’d better, you’d better, you bet. I pass every waking hour just like the night – in bed. The ocean keeps eroding the coast and with every gulp of tea, my insides burn up. Every cigarette smokes out new demons. Every drop of whisky tames the beast within and all I can think of is: I sin. There’s no heaven above, just the ground underneath. And I hear them shovelling already, can taste – from your tears – grief. I leave it up to you how you wish to remember me. I leave it up to you what the world will see. What they will write about me, how they will sigh, thinking of me. All of this life will cease to be. A decrescendo, a fading-out. And in my head everything’s just loud. Your breath, the rain, the insufferable pain – all is lost and nothing is to gain. For crying out loud – if only my voice weren’t muffled. You would see that while I lied still, my feet still shuffled. A measly rest, still kicking to avoid that final rest. Shade in the dark. Contrasts so stark. No light where the tunnel’s yet to dig. I leave it up to you to pick me up like a fragile twig. I leave it up to you whether I am worth saving or not. I tried to go it alone – I gave it my best shot.