Thursday, 22 March 2012

Killer moon

a Jack's letter to Benjamin

dear Half,

I need quit smoking. the drag is longer, like everlong. like empty, like you. I catch myself wanting you til the bones, bringing the refuse to you, only, again. breathing you in... the cruel way to end with anything real open in ourselves. and when I close my eyes, i cant see you, its like we're in the same space but not in the same time, getting closer to get what was left in all of the assurance....

I'm running but cant touch the ground, to get in your place, in your side. you cant ask me how, baby, because I'm full of questions, full of answers, and empty instead. I read your imaginary letters, half, you finally felt the broken glass comming into you, right? like the force that has no cause, like the violator in your final offer: priceless. and then again we change the places to better off your vision. nether you or your love could bring me down. remember you cant destroy me inside you, dear. you'd have to kill yourself. so see, Benny, run! I'm comming to you, tumbling behind you, sucking you till you turn into myself again. See... I'm still irreversible but take a chance: imagine.

the storm is breaking, Ben...

almost yours,


Sunday, 18 March 2012


Some nights I thirst for real blood/ For real knives/ For real cries/ And then the flash of steel from real guns/ In real life/ Really fills my mind/ And I really miss what really did exist/ When I held your throat so tight/ And I miss the bus as it swerved from us/ Almost came crashing to its side/ Sometimes the blood from real cuts/ Feels real nice/ When it's really mine/ And if you want it to be real/ Come over for one night/ And we can really, really climb/ And those blue bridge lights might really burn most bright/ As we watch that dark lake rise/ And if you really want to see what really matters most to me/ Just take a real short drive/ It's just a drive into the dark stretch/ Long stretch of night/ Will really stretch this shaking mind/ And this room, unlit, unheated/ And the ceiling striped/ And the dark black blinds/ I want to know this time if you're really finally mine/ I need to know that you're not lying so I want to see you tried/ And I don't want to hear you say it shouldn't really be this way/ 'Cause I like this way just fine/ 'Cause there's nothing quite like the blinding light/ That curtains cast aside/ And no attempt is made to explain away/ The things that really, really, really, really, really are behind/ You can't hide

(Okkervil River)

About Me

My photo
I'll meet you in the light.