Revival of the lousy poet

To my oldest friend, TJ Eckleburg who constantly saves me from being completely hunted, no matter how much I might desire it myself. A tea awaits you at Vien. The following is what happens when I get drunk and follow your wishes. You asked for it, bastard guy.

travellers II

with stunted breath we spoke and climed mountains
and held our fears close to our hearts,
we laughed and cried and cried and laughed
every moment making a new start.
failing again, and again to memory; lord bless them
guitar strings that brought us some mirth
when there was none, not here and not in your heart
every moment falling a little apart.

the mountains are climed, the words are spoken
with true love and hate now we paint our world.
i cut, rape, lose, scream, break the glass of your window and sing
to you a million times.
silently.
you hear, you know, you smile sometimes and catch that
cab back to the airport leaving that broken pane,
broken to my world.

where will we try old friend, to meet and curse each other again?
what time of the day would you say then,
that you hate me and i should hate you back?
when will we find another mountain to climb,
when all we are left with is familiarity from another time?
where will you touch me then, would you dare to?
and what would you say, if i wished to slit your throat,
and asked you for one last smile on your way out?

I go back to work tommorrow, the beginning of another week of blissfull numbness. Cheers.