~ i love my brother ~

and today is his birthday. kiss.

if you didn't care what happened to me
and i didn't care for you
we would
zig zag our way~

~ i got scared of my own shadow tonight ~

thought it happens only in movies but... it's just my specialty, isn't it.

threatened by shadows at night
and exposed in the light
shine on you crazy

i remember taking this photo. it happened during one of those long midnight walks of mine. one overconscious step after another, a narrow lane after a narrow lane ringing in the essence of something deeply anticipated. calling. got this vision and just couldn't resist.

and when you finally meet the answer - only thereafter you can form the question - carve the question mark - and then straighten it gently to tie your hair.

then move on to find a dirty rim on your way. take it home.
scrap is only a definition.

well i wore out my welcome
with random precision

ride on the steel breeze.

~ julia dream ~

picking nightberries. thinking about this whatever-film i've watched some time ago., there was this thoughtstream: it wasn't so hard to cross that street after all... it all depends on who's waiting for you on the other side. back then i found it beautiful. now - cowardly. if you leave, leave a person. only not leave for a person. it's just an easy, secure exchange. not any choice, just opportunism.

i have changed the numbers on my watch,
and now perhaps something else will change.
now perhaps
at precisely 2a.m.
you will not get up
and gathering your things together
go forever.
perhaps now you will find it is
far too early to go,
or far too late,
and stay forever

brian patten

~ set the controls ~

train back home.
shaky.
cold.

i like playing guitar very softly, on the threshold of audibility. and singing to its tones, it sounds beautifully at night. playing lullabies to myself - a bit insane. and then - almost falling asleep. oddly enough, i find more rest and relief in these moments than in a dream.

leaning over the angle between guitar body and neck, when you smell the timber and feel it glide under your fingertips - it's almost like singing somebody to the ear. as if there wasn't only echo in the room. as if there was a breath.

it is strange that you do not remember
any of your poetry, william blake.

~ false sunrise ~

this evening i've been walking oliwa's narrow streets.
darkness. stillness. leafless trees. glittering pavements. black cat. rain.

face your fears and pierce the night

i was singing katatonia and david sylvian. then pink floyd.
soon i've realized. i looked around.
nobody.

no one living like in cortazar's novels. nobody wandering those alleys at night. just me. and the wind.
overwhelming loneliness and longing.
raindrops on my lips. and a smile. this strange one.

everytime i passed a lightlime, or a tree, i got this urge to embrace it, have a rest. at last. a utopia of laying down the weapons. a bliss of closing eyes, off guard. this lightness.
unreachable.

i let the eyelids fall cause it's another false sunrise - i feel the warmth but i can't see the light. or the other way round.

so... so you think you can tell