I wanted you to
keep me on the
straight and
narrow to
bring out the
best in me
forever and
ever
Little did I foresee
your plans of
padded walls and
jackets with extended
arms to align me
with the rest of
your world
The creative flow
as water in
winter
never quite reaching
the peaks it
used to
anymore
I wanted You but
You were not quite You and
neither was I and
I hope you see that
too
I made you up
I blew you up
your sky’s the limit
breathing helium
Your man in the sky
the big cheese
tattooed and
filled with dreams
as long as you pay
to fly his wicked way
with your choice
on ice
always cracking
in the city of
lies
My Angel stay away
as I walk
walk and talk
to myself and you
is never there
anymore
my voice echo
between concrete walls,
pebbled and grey
like a tank-top
covering your
Features
My Angel stay away
as long as I
continue to talk
to myself
everyday
pebbled and grey
He kept going
on adrenaline
morphine or
ketamine he
didn’t know
couldn’t remember
eating
something kept him going
running on
never stopping
with broken bones and
delusions of normality
he wasn’t fit for purpose
any purpose
anywhere
he didn’t care
he kept going
After meeting you
I gave up
a lifetime of
shielded safety.
I volunteered
undressed
armour first
a child revealed
thinking you
keep me safe
always.
No.
The armour
no longer
fits me so I
stand naked
and alone
regretting decisions
vaguely remembered.
I could never
harm the self
with knives
as cuts leaves
lasting scars
exposed.
I could never
waste this precious
life
with drugs and
dolls and days
asleep.
I could never
face the
mirror image
without truth in
heart and honest
intention.
I could never
drink
myself to sleep,
alone in a
moulding bed of
dreams.
In times long forgotten he saw himself beyond his years, with puny peers throughout, he would proudly proclaim “It’s lonely at the top”.
The illusions turned delusions, shattered dreams and ugly fangs, reality biting through the armoured mask, persona grande scarred and died.
The sliding on slippery slopes, the tumble down the rocky roads, the fall from grace a swift affair, leaving crumbs that no one followed.
every now and then it would be nice
leaving the house in the morning without locking the door.
every now and then it would be nice
coming home at night
and not switch on the lights.
every now and then it would be nice
to share a meal, a few drinks
and a laugh.
every now and then it would be nice
with a hug and a soothing voice
saying “it’s going to be alright”.
A madness fuelled
by solitude,
a Queen of Spades
in silence,
a heart of gold
a living soul,
perished by divination.
The realisation that
work fucked me up
is as unbearable as
the truth that there is
nothing else.
