Haunted dreams

Loneliness
A spider that scratches your silence
Each night
On the ceiling

Today you have to get off the train
One step earlier
God himself will be waiting
For a lost brother
In the railway station
On the other hand of a tunnel

Words are grains
Half fertile, half barren
That will stop on your lips
Like wind in the branches

End of a journey
Beyond the clouds
A void
Heavy shovels
Have already dug the grave