when the melancholy comes back I occasionally think of us.
all in all it is way better now though
the tree in the backyard speaks in silence.
there is no death.
your yearning is aimed into the cold dark
stars have lost their anonymity
i wish i could forget
how i wish i could forget

new old friends i meet
i have always alredy loved them
first you get older
then you regret
but there is hope at the horizons
lets make this reality.
lets make it rock

it is impossible, of course, but it happens nevertheless. you look at me, shaking your head, saying, Emeralda, if i was only a bit younger, I would come with you.... your eyes meet mine and we both know it is true and i smile, with a tinge of regret and agree. I know I say, I know.
it seems such a great divide, and so many possibilities too, what that all could mean. in the end it will be what we make it.
as you say goodbye your hand holds my smaller back and i feel like falling through soft clouds. the quality of our encounters has changed since the last time you say and i struggle for words to explain that they have always been as wonderful for me...but you say, I like the way it changed and again I can´t help but just nod my head smiling, agreeing with you. my heart jumps every time i see you. i am so glad to see you. whatever it is, i am so glad to know you this time.

So it is.
Breaths drawn very long. A reply. A reply that wasn´t anticipated even.
Of course you had to, not because you are nice, which I know you are, but because you need me. You need me to now think about you again. To have that somewhere in the back of your mind. Because you know that´s how you´d get me every time. And I´d be there for you. Always.
This is the reverse. The reverse love letter that I could write. The other side. There is nothing particularly spectacular about this story. Nothing obscure. It is very plain and simple: Energy lasts that long. It´s good to have a back up. It´s good to anchor in hearts, even if the sea is calm.
There is no way I can imagine you with her really. I never really could. There is nothing inside me that doubts that our love was real. In a way, that nothing else could ever be true.

in the hide

with some sort of fascination i look at these pictures, my long hair, the shaved off corner at the side of my head, the singing, the smiles, the frustration, the broken feathers and the blue wall.
how different that all was.
how innocent.
and i thought i had somewhat grown up until i found myself in this situation
hanging somewhere midfall
trying to figure out what happened.

and then PJ Harvey comes back into my life with White Chalk
and the piano
and dawn that ushers my dreams to sleep
lullabies unspoken
uncried tears
fears that sleep
and joy that comes bubbeling

o God I miss you
oh God I miss you
Oh God I miss you..
oh God I miss you

my love getting married is making me happy inside
if I knew that there is really an after life
I might be happy for you as well
it s possible that I am

nobody is listening
nobody is listening
nobody is listening
nobody is listening
nobody is listening
o God i miss you
oh God I miss you
Oh God I Miss You

Oh God I miss You.

hard to reach across
we are all carrying our own loads
and I wish I knew how to gain strength
I guess it's just a matter of time
until i can speak again.

It's not like what he has seen
people dying
thousands
and maybe some fallen
by his hand

his teeth were crushing
making sounds like frogs
but he was no prince
just a broken artist
with a limping soul

Oh God I miss you
Oh God I miss you.
Oh God I miss you

I know that I want to paint again
just so i can cry from the inside out
let color mingle
with what this is all about

but until then
i might just continue
hiding
here

Nobody is listening
nobody is listening
nobody is listening
nobody is listening

nobody is listening

o god i miss you
o god i miss you
o god i miss you
o god i miss you
o god i miss you

ebbing

Tears to soften the edges of this rocky path
swaying the dreams into sleep.

obscured

the meaning of it all is obscured

and for the first time (or so I think) I am not so sure if and how I can deal with this. It is, indeed, bigger than I.
Sleeping, obviously, a very sound choice.
Sometimes I wish I could just float on those big puffy clouds that grace our northern skies these days. Or drift with the wind and just dance.
Hard to come back on the ground, hard to go on.

Oh mother, give us strength

Jo

this is a new chapter.
Jo, you are - somwhere, I hope.
I want to talk to you. Tell you how I feel. I feel miserable.
Not too bad, after all.
I had a bad dream. I am bitching about one or two bad dreams. Just imagine, how people must feel who have nightmares every night. I am full of self-pity. That's pathetic.
Jo, man. How ironic, that the one person I feel I could talk to about all of this is the one gone.
Damnit.
But ah, okay. I get it. The spiritual path. But for now I only see blue puddles and myself indulging in wallowing in it.
Some music? Eh. I guess.
God.
Joseph, what am I to do now? Light candles, meditate, pray. I guess. Or go on a walk in the forests and swim in lakes and rivers and oceans and go on bike trips. Maybe a wandering circus project! why not.
And songs. Full of passion and tears. These are not too bad of prospects.
Can I take you with me then? Butterflies. Bumblebees. You go on your way, it's alright. It's alright. I am not saying anything.
I am.
ah. Jo. It's alright, I am only sighing.

so diving into the blue
of all the notes and melodies and rhythms
just so i can
feel
you
but that s just a scheme
a vision
an illusion

that we all know

still, it is nice
like chocolate

dream

i can t tell how much this meant to me
your returning in the dark
it was almost a little bit too much
left me confused and dazzled
and in rain and tears

there is the moment i gather it all together
i let the wind take it on its wings
and music to wrap it in
carefully like some beautifully drawn sand painting not to be shaken

i can't say why it is now
that times come back in loops
lifting me up into the ground
there, where i lay,
under the dark mountain
with all its weight on me

you can wait until it comes
and never force it
and you can't force the doors shut
when you are still amongst the living
and forced to sleep

it came back in the unknown. a dream, intrinsicate, complex, fulminating in a crescendo of despair, resolving in the utterly most beautiful moment possible.

the moment when you know, that this is love and you can't do anything about it.
and he knows just as well, and no matter, what has happened or will happen, he always will.

so i listen to ray lamontagne, listen to my sister speak about new life stirring and cry soft red tears. everything is in goosebumps. you are completely gone, fainted in will. the fear of knew to come maybe is what brings me back to this well.
maybe it is the dream that was calling me then.

glen hansard

i fantasize
about that night
when you didn't let me come to Marie's show.
i was on my skateboard and you didn't tell me where.
and you had lied to me about who picked you up and everything.
even though we had had such a nice evening just prior.
i fantasize.
because i remember.
i remember how her car drew up and i watched you through the blinds.
blinded in my heart
so heavy
and i heard you guys talk
for ever
i didn't know if i should go outside to meet you.
when she left i did
i found you next to the hotel, throwing up in the bushes
you whined and how you didn't want me to see you that way
and how ... all these things.
sometimes i wonder if it was just to divert my attention from the fact
that you had totally failed me.

i fantasize, rewind.
i fantasize about packing your suitcase while you were talking in the car
how i would walk up casually and give the suitcase to her,
asking her to give you shelter
since she already got the best of you.

I remember all this when I listen to Glen Hansard.
I almost enjoy.
the heaviness and bitter blue clutch around my soul
in this situation
seems almost preferrable
to the total lack of presence
thereof.

47 days

sober
and
i listen to taraf de haidouks
and I can t breathe
because i can only and only feel you
in this very moment
i am caught
caught
caught

linger

I can't really help it
I am struggeling with this
Trying to find words when there are only paintings
The ravens outside the window and the summerstorms
Leaves turned upside down
Shimmering silver
Sucking the last bit of life and meaning from this song
k.d.lang and a dance by Pina Bausch 'Mascura Fogo'
My baby is gone....
Oh!
I live in a different universe now but I will walk back
into a new river
where the old one used to flow
I am trying to repaint
everything I know
Trying to move on in the knowing
Hold dear what needs to be cherished
and

.