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”.
The realisation that
work fucked me up
is as unbearable as
the truth that there is
nothing else.
I said “Hey Gorgeous”
but nothing sticks on
Teflon shoulders
I said “Hey Gorgeous”
but high heels walked
away lonely
I said “Hey Gorgeous”
wanting you to understand
it was only my third time
I said “Hey…”
turning around
regretting
I say less
these days but you’re
still gorgeous
A new day is
dawning, your
silent comfort
interrupted by
green faces’ stare
from beyond the
tree line,
whispers of
librarians burning
their bras in a
desert mirage,
fishnet stockings
fluttering in a
tree nearby,
today will be
a good day for
tart
I entered Lennox House
With a Blistered mind
Swimming a sea of Confusion
Surfing on waves of Insanity
Drowning as the Sharks
Locked the Door
