Tommy,

My dear old friend,
Please do not be upset,
Don't mind the silance
That drops from my
Silly washed out pen.
I'm divided that way,
Sometimes I even
Just stroll away,
Playing the rols of life
Utterly unfit to obey.

The kidnapper I am,
The kidnappe I become...

A long time ago
Starts with here
No need to dig between
The skin keeps the sins,
A scratch deep below
A fary ride long,
Perserved and freezed
Up and ready to go!

Now that the story line is set,
I'm gonna put it on play
And let the last dot
Shout as loud as it may-
There's no more lines to be read.
He has nothing else to say-
In the shallow black background
The wisper of the dot
Echos with the will to stay-
THE FINAL SCENE!
THE END!

I scroll back to here
Now that I have
Ruined the play
I may as well
Paint my way...


The kidnaper I am.
The kidnappe I become
By my own little daily shades,
Hidden, alone, planfull and afraid.
I've hid my self in this dull skyline Branched beneath the comfort of a Cracked shell I sometimes call bed!
Alone and betrayed
By the empty dream it self!

And though the monsters stare at me, Locked out, uninterested and bored,

I don't feel at ease, I dont feel safe no more!
There boredom frightens me the most!

So we start kicking my self!
Only twice have me missed the groin!

It doesn't help! The kidnapper laughs through words, while lockin the door!

He does his best trying to entertain! What a foolish thing to do! Look at him beging for help! What a little old man did I managed to portray.

To amuse, to entertain, to let them see I'm no longer immune to pain...
Let them in, I beg my self. What kind of fool, in him, did I become?!

Let them knock down the door! Let them come in, let them smash our skull and let's screem in laughter, let them be adored here and now and once again!

He finaly went down on my knees,
We dropped in silance of a pray-

The voice that suddenly went astray
Kept on echoing the words I once baried in a paint...

Oh please,
I beg my self- One more time,
For the old time sake!
Let us, just please, let us
Let the monsters play.


Tommy my friend,
I started to write you a long overdue replay and it quickly wanished in a sketch or the first version of the song about, let say- Me, me and (close enough) Irene!
I do apologize for not writing back earlier as I said I'll do and have planed to do, and of course, don't worry, you my dear friend, did nothing wrong.
Quite the opposite, I have, at the same time enjoyed your writing and buried my self beneath the stone of guilt not being able to write what I wanted to and reply with a song.
I started to write a poem this summer and wanted to finish it before I write back and I tought that I was so close... before I lost her...
It was, it seems, a long time ago yet it still huntes me, I'm not able to let her go.
I'll send you the final version of that "Street song" as soon as I fell ready to start from the beginning once more!

I'll write to you about my life, the summer, my home and a journey that awaits ready for this poor old scratch of a soul soon enough.

I have over stayed a welcome for my letter from a while ago so i retire for now.
Until we write again, soon, I really do hope, may you have a wordfull Christmas, may your wife firmly claims you hers and may the music every day find a way to your door!

My dear friend,
I'll always be sincerely yours
A silance without a cause! ;)

Igor Slafer