Monday, March 2, 2009

I'm (stranded).

We never made a pact
you and I
before you died
we could have said
we'd let each other know
from the other side
that it's all okay
and if it wasn't
that we'd make it so.

I'd never heard from you
not a vision
nor a dream
no cold chills
or "knowing" feelings
nothing at all
until the other night
while the colours fed me
as I slept
and the phone in my dream
glowing with
876 unread messages
and so I read one
and it said

Please tell me what that meant.

I've needed you so many times
and it's getting late
and now
while I'm holding my t-shirt
above my head
so that the wind may
pick me up and blow
me away
now, is the time
I need to hear your voice.

But I don't.

Instead I huddle beneath a tree
as a man runs for cover
with his dog trailing
and plastic and tin tumbleweeds
spin and flutter across the dry grass
kissing my guitar case with wet ice cream
as I hold my new home close
trying to light a half smoked cigarette
with an empty lighter
and hoping the afterlife
will bring some renewed lust
for what may yet be.


tell me what it meant.

I'm running out of


  1. "tw" on a mobile phone you have to press eight then nine. 89. Does that help? What happened in '89?

  2. Weird, that's when I went to Japan Mr Gunn. Hm. Chiyonofuji.