I am jack's tormented heart

I feel like a time traveler. As if it has been decades,centuries of my existence. Don't mistake it as something haughty, or arrogant or something else. I read about things and i feel that i have been there and absorbed the melodies of those bygone years. I had been there with Sinatra, and with Morrison, with Axl Rose and his skin tight jeans. With Sackett, and with Kid Rodelo,I traveled the far blue mountains. Sipping black coffee,living off the grass, i survived the frontier with strong Irish people. Passing history as I walk,I feel the pebbles talking, the big oak smiling gently, laughing at my inquisitiveness. The foreign lands are not so foreign. And the seas have never been so calm. Soaked in knowledge of past years and people, it feels complete. There is contentment and yet,there is an urge to know more. Life's ending,one minute at a time. A subtle hurry it is.   

In a flash,it changed. The London weather gave way to the sunshine of southern France. That's how life was with her. In an instant she could come and twist and break me with a couple of strange upright non romantic letters. For her eyes bore into mine and melted me in an instant. Lazer eyes melted the soft iron core. But i liked it. I liked the way we would go on talking for hours and the world ceased to exist. Our words intermingled,to form poetry and that's how we would talk then. She is pretty. Those big eyelashes. That kajal smudge,for she used it,and i loved it. And strange as it was,i never knew what hit me until she was no longer there. Yes,in a flash it changed. The sunshine gave way to London weather,had me up in bottles of beer   and an unkempt beard. That's why i write at in the night. What is it now, 1: 20 am? Because he,who loved the light,made darkness his own. And she's all grown up, and the kajal's not so smudgy now. But i long to