MM T 2905. Literary sketch

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MM T 2905, p. 2

    Out of the depths I raised
my pale head – green with
mire and slime – around my feet
hung scorpions and slimy remains –
– I saw the swan far off
– it resembled my lost picture
– I reached out to it with
my hands – and it seemed to want to
come closer –

    But surrounding me was a large ring of mire
A ring of mire that surrounded me – and the Swan could not  … 

MM T 2905, p. 1

    Why do we exist –
why do people’s
faces glide past me – like
a stream – restlessly –
– incessantly – seeking
a destination –

    I see their hollow eyes –
skulls behind the pale masks –

    Why so eager –
Do they not know that the destination is death –
Why do they smile – why
do they work –

    All of nature suffers –

MM T 2905, p. 3

    Her countenance hovers in the sky
– and remembers – A countenance that has
usurped the image of my ideal – culpable
– sorrowful –