I am running out of pages in this journal... a new one will have to start soon.

I've got nothing keeping me here
no reason to stay but for the cherished yesterday dreams
They could still become alive if we wanted them
But no, we don't, not yet
I could fly to Ireland, France,
Back to the motherland, back to the Netherlands
None here would miss me
I could fly away with the memory
Of loving you and never forget
Never corrupt yesterday's dreams
But it's all me now, caught in the present
The ever-churning current
I could disappear and never return
But I would, to remind you all I should have stayed
But my love wants for Atlantic waters
And I for the Pacific
May we meet some day in some trickle of a ravine
Laced for miles about rocks and mosses and snails and birds
I am the tadpole - Or are you the frog?
You are the crab - Or am I the hermetic shell?

Hell is nearer than you think
Is the back door locked?
That rabbit hole contains nothing
Compared to the looking glass
That's just a snake
Eating its own tail
What you face is the tail
And the arduous task
Of devouring it to the end

The sun is setting
The clouds are running wild
With fire in the sky
All I can think about
is the girl who smiled as I walked by
Jewels were in her hair
shades over her eyes
she carried nothing but a smile
And a drum by her side
I should be leaving
I should be moving on
But every damn woman I see
Crossing paths with me
Reminds me of the one who chose to stay
But now is gone
What did I do to finally chase you away?
I was so faithfully adoring
Just save the desperate imploring for you to stay...

Please don't kill me softly
Take my life away from me
With all the rage and brutality
That I deserve.
Let the bed be broken
Against the ocean side
I'll take one spring as token
For love we shared that died
Crack the neck of the guitar
That was between us to hold
In the goat skin of your drum
Punch a thousand little holes
I'll keep the strings
You'll keep the pins
We'll use the hollow bodies for kindling
To build us a great fire
We'll pile on all the possessions
That were once known as ours
We'll burn them down to ashes
Along with all our once shared desires
We'll throw our masks into the coals
Mine is covered in blood and ribbons
Yours, by bird feathers and fish bones
We'll exchange, return, and finally burn
All our traded clothes
We'll embrace in the ashes
Then return to our separate homes
Straightened and awakened
I will finally be whole

I want a stranger to approach
out of pure synchronisity
lead by an intuition
of the great possibility
that in only an instant
we could reduce us to infants
dependant and subservient to love
I want a stranger to lie with me
just to share the simple things
we only have when two bodies
breathe the same air
I want to hold a stranger woman
feel her, stroke her wild hair
I want to come to know her
Have her know me if she dared
But what am I to her but a nameless face
in a sea called "crowd"
Masked by anonymity
So my eyes don't speak too loud
No one seems to stare like I do
Into the eyes that pass them by
They just quickly glance away
As if afraid of what they'll find
No matter how hard I try
I can't help but want to know
Who these strangers are
And what their hearts have to show
And I can't tell you how hard it's been
Not to covet their skin
It seems like an impossibility
that some day I'll truly find
a pair of eyes as wide and bright
that linger as long on mine
I want a stranger to approach
a stranger who might lie with me
I want to hold a stranger
That I might not feel so strange with me

Someone has smeared their blood
Next to the window at the back seat
That even could have been me
Years ago I was a little weaker
And it's a thin line between being strong
And strong enough to die
I can only sympathize with the dregs
Who contemplate suicide
I was there and sometimes
I wonder if I ever really felt more alive
than that time I watched air come between my skin
in the wake of a knife

I want to smoke with you
in the snow again
I want to joke with you
about everything
I want to drink with you
until it's morning
Do it all over again
the next evening
But it's the girl I love
with whom you're lying
And it's the boy I love
with whom she's sleeping
And while I'm thinking
of what you might be dreaming
You are living out the life
I dreamed of having
And I am jealous
I am sick
With envy

Our love is nothing
No Thing to be spoken of
And this touch--does it feel wrong?
Does it turn you on?
Does ti remind you of all that for which you long?
Or of that special little place that you call home?
And when you see yourself there are you in company or alone?
Our love is nothing
No Thing to be spoken of
This touch is a feeling
A feeling that I cannot transmit through words
For words must be heard
Digested and tested
And even then, do you think that words could
Really make our love understood
The only way words should
enlighten us about love is
is everything to be spoken of
is really nothing, is really love
So we make up words to make sense of
An infinite universe composed of love
And these words point us in the direction we've all come from
And they remind us
That this touch
Closed eyes, no sound, darkness, quiet...
Some call it a big bang
But I call it this touch
Because I believe in a universe composed of love
Where our love is everything
Which is nothing to be spoken of
because this touch is a feeling
That I cannot transmit through words

I went to central station
Saw all the peoples faces waiting
though none were waiting or looking for me
So I take the next train
go on to the next city
Though the faces still all look the same
I'm on my way to my first show
Being held in an outdoor theater
To stand with a crowd I don't know
Though all the faces look familiar
This illusion of communion is all I long for
This illusion of communion is all I live for
When I saw you and him in the crowd
It was more than I could stand
Your fingers were intertwined,
I know it's only holding hands...
But there used to be a space
Between your knuckles where I would place
My fingers like fragmented puzzle pieces, that
senseless by themselves, together create such beauty
But now your picture does not include me
You've put primer over pain
And in the space I used to fill
You're painting a new face
And I hope that it is beautiful
Yeah I'm sure it is beautiful
There's no one now in my life
Who loves me like you did
So I'm painting a self portrait
Of myself as a little kid
I've got a blank canvas
And all the universe's colors at my fingertips

All of these pages will never be filled
All I have written here is an epitaph to the moments passed by

I've got all I need
though my pockets are empty
And I've no one to comfort me
I've got all I need
The sun blesses all that I see
the rain falls to sprout the seeds
And these gentle hands are all I need
To sow next  years crop with this year's seed
And feed all the souls dear to me

The dawn breaks
Coffee and cigarettes
sunshine filters through smoke and steam
You know we've all gotta get clean
But not today, not today,
just pass me that whisky
fill my cup until I've had enough
I'll be all right... I'll be alright

I toss and turn in my sleep
as if searching my empty bed for something
someone to keep holding on to as the dreams
come and go and are forgotten

My gut is rotten through with coffee and smoke
I can't eat... but I do
I can drink but I try not to
I am so tired I can't sleep

Who calls but nature?
To lift me from bed in the morning
Old friends have left behind
an old friend not worth mourning

I try to sing but I know you're listening
And the ones that should hear
have only turned a deaf ear
Mother it's just too embarrassing

This is my soul
It is mine alone
And even I proclaim no ownership
Everything, absolutely everything
is on lease.

I want to smoke all day
drink all night
I want the cigarette to last forever
I want to sleep a million years

This little archive of my life since thirteen is now almost entirely full, so the black book will be closed save for the frequent reminders it will offer me in reading. These are the last pages recorded here...

All of us are better when we're loved. I have always been loved, but I have not always loved...
We talked all night till we could talk no more
and we decided it best that I sleep on the floor.
The bed is for the child, and I am a man
though I feel more like an infant at the touch of her hand.
At home in those arms I could say everything, and I did.
I am free to love this woman and her adorable kid,
though I am not a father and I wonder if I had been
Would I be any better? useless wondering...
Whatever happens, happens, for life is but a dream.
All I know is that I love this life and so too I admire her dreams.
In the morning she recalled to me what I had said in her subconscious
"That mouth would make for a great blowjob" and I laughed
Perhaps she saw right through me, but there was so much more
that flew through my mind as I lay on the floor.
There is beauty in those hands, chewed breasts and wrinkled belly
There is beauty in those bright eyes and smile
But all the while underneath there is beauty I cannot describe
It would be a lie if I tried but there is certainly something glorious
behind the surface of those eyes.
If I never see her again that will be alright,
the print left on my soul in a single, simple night
will lift me up in joy through a thousand different lifetimes.
Still, I know too well the danger of those eyes
they way they gaze longingly into mine.
I should like to close them with a kiss, a touch
but it would feel almost too much
if I should then like to be with you all the time.
What could I stand to lose? What might I find?
Love? Abandonment? Or all of the above?

Senses of Love

I love to look at life
through the reflections of light
caught by a window
when it is dark outside.
I love to listen in on conversations
carried in the wind
from some distant street or corner
I cannot see.
I love the taste of thick smoke
or thick steam washing all over me
or strong drink or someone else
tasting me.
I love the scent of baby's breath
or a woman's sweat
and anyone between the legs
just before or after sex.
I love to feel within myself
the loving essence of someone else
the burning of my skin
as sunlight comes pouring in
and at night the quiet peace
just before life and death meet.

Today I opened up the messiah's handbook thinking of you and this is what it said...

The choice to follow any real adventure
is measured by this view:
When you look back on it,
will you be glad you dared,
or glad you didn't?

To love someone unconditionally
is not to care who they are or what they do.
Unconditional love, on the surface
looks the same as indifference.