Hank's blog: "X"

Somewhere within the deafening silence of tomorrow I heard a shattering heart, shards of hope, scattered on the breeze, and within each glistening peice, was a crystaline teardrop, and within each tear, was a reflection of you... There never can be a tomorrow, without a yesterday, and yesterday is you.

Sleep, my lovely, sleep, rest your eyes, as you rest your weary head upon my chest, let me comfort you, protect you, and watch over you, as you journey far away, to a better world, where your dreams are full of miles and miles of joy and smiles, and everything you've ever wished for. Sleep, my lovely, sleep, let the worries flow from your brow, and let them rest upon my strong body, let me carry your cares for you, so that you might be free. Sleep, my lovely, sleep, so that you might wake tomorrow, and find me here, holding you, caressing you, waking you with love...

I want to kiss away your tears, to take away your salted pain, and replace it with a smile... Wake up with me, so that we both might remember?

If I could pick one dream to hold and cherish, to keep within my mind forever, it would be woman. So powerful, so beautiful, so mysterious, the warmth within my soul, the smile upon my face, and the beating of my heart. She is the mother, the lover, the rock of our lives, the teat that nurtures, the caress that soothes, the touch that arouses, and the vision that inspires. She is the passion, the drive, the muse, but also she is the steady hand, always there, always ready, always... love. If I could pick one dream to hold and cherish, to keep within my mind forever, it would be woman.

I do not have the answers, sometimes I don't even have the questions, sometimes I have nothing but empty thoughts that drift upon the breeze... Have you ever chased a snowflake, such a fragile, delicate, and beautiful thing, crystalline sculpture, in purest white? Have you ever caught that flake, and watched it as it fades in the warmth of your hand, softly dissolving, to a tear drop? When I see the snows fall, and disrupt us all, block our roads, close our schools, bring down power lines, and cause death and destruction I sometimes think of that delicate snow flake and wonder how something so small, so gentle, so fragile, can be so destructive. Then I look at us, people, and we're just the same, so many fragile people, and yet when one or two voices band together we can cause such pain, and such misery. I don't want to see drifts, and blizzards, death and destruction, I just want to hold the delicate people, to see them for their individual beauty, and to care for them, and to love them. Why are some people so filled with hate?

"Hello darkness, my old friend I've come to talk with you again Because a vision softly creeping Left its seeds while I was sleeping And the vision that was planted in my brain Still remains Within the sound of silence..." I remember when I was so young that I never saw a thing, even when it wasn't there... I even remember missing darkness There was a street that ran alongside the railroad. I used to have to walk it every morning when I was... so small that ages didn't matter, and every day I walked it differant people would be there, usually men, funny men with dirty coats and long uncombed hair. They used to talk to me, and everyone said I shouldn't listen, but they looked, they listened, they learnt, they knew enough to stimulate, knew enough to tittilate, knew enough to sow a seed of... And now? Now those mornings are gone, the road isn't even there no more, some fine new condos instead of goods yards, but their spirits live, the men... You ever lived near the railroad? I swear the whistle of the train is an illusion, there's ghosts, real ghosts, in the night air, and when they hear the train coming, they hide their screams behind it's whistle, hoping no one will hear their agony, their pain, but I remember hearing it. I remember feeling the cold chill as they touched me, shook me in my bed, as the train whistled by, calling to me 'wake up wake up the world is calling the world is calling' and then they'd cry in pain, like a warning, saying 'If you stay you'll regret everything already set time to walk or stop for pain time to walk forget the rain' When I remember that old street, that old railroad, I never know how to feel, being small was... interesting... Suggestions for the morning flightpath of a butterfly? You dream of empty days on a highway floating cruising going nowhere but... how many heartbeats and dreams do you think it costs? Flatline desert Comatosed between the bright light and dark night gang of angels dressed as crows a murder by the highway will they start to fly my way sunkissed madness and for every mile that's walked a thousand more are travelled internally fraternity of internal screamers Ever kissed the sky at night and felt it's cool breath against your mind like an empty whisper hollow of hope? All who cry travel on that breeze What is it that screams at us when we are waking what is it that pins us to the day? Does anything mean anything? glass slipper kissed the mind of holy fuck and hear me blind with every sound within a whisper ticking of an iron bell or is a belle a bon voyage of maiden flights and ghostly nights of slipped inside a circle going somewhere and how many ways are freeways even if the sign points north and carries on for never or ever turning on the plate of open comfort and all that can be said is mother are you watching can you hear me? Some say it started in a desert, along a highway, watched by a murder of crows. I say it started forever ago in an ocean, with a dream, but we all have our starts, do we have ends?

Am I so tired I can no longer see, I can no longer feel, I can no longer care? I don't feel so tired, and yet I feel nothing but cold, as though I have been abandoned, in a dark and desolate place, with no company, apart from that of black salted tears, that run and fall, and leave me also. Is there no dream, within my dreams, that can offer up an ounce of hope, a gleaming beacon, within the night, to stimulate me, to captivate me, and to lead me to sanctuary. I stare so hard into the darkness, into the abyss, awaiting your return, but you are never to be seen, and all I'm left to do, is stand here, wondering if I've become to tired...

If this is Vegas, I'm in the wrong place, but it's all good, because your here too... There was this girl, don't even remember who she was, she said she was going to Vegas, I told her to stick a stack on red 23. She asked me why, and I said, I don't know, just felt like the right thing to say. I saw her a week later, and she ran up to me, hugged me, and told me red 23 had come in, she'd won a lot, I can't remember how much she said, but she must have bet a lot, because her winnings were big, if I recall correctly...

I can feel the warmth of your breath, upon my neck, even though we are a thousand miles apart. I can feel the gaze of your eyes, as you look upon me, and I can sense the growing anticipation, that could burst into passion and lust, even though you are not here. I can feel the tension in your hand, as it wants to touch me, even knowing I am but words on a screen, at this very moment in time, and I can hear, the longing in your voice, even though there is nothing but silence in the air. I too feel these things, and see these things, and want these things, I too am filled with love, and longing, hope and desire, and burning passion, a ball of energy, that would fly through the ether, along the cables and wires of the internet, and into your arms, if only it were possible. Can you feel the warmth of my breath upon your neck too? Sit still, sit silent, for just a moment, and feel it.

If there is no such thing as heaven, then where did you come from, wrapped in beauty, awe and wonder?