I feel like I’m waiting.
Sitting in nervous apprehension
Contemplating
Trying to cope with the tension.
I feel like I’m waiting.
For my friends to find their happiness
Anticipating
The day they find their bliss.
I feel like I’m waiting.
Poised in impatient agony
Enduring
This darkness inside of me.
I feel like I’m waiting.
Contemplating.
Anticipating.
Enduring.
Hoping.
That one day, I can be free.
You know,
It’s funny
That on this day
When others remember
Those who lost their lives
On beaches far away,
That I just remember you.
It’s true when they say
That time dulls the pain,
But memories linger
And a certain sadness remains.
A meloncholy longing
To have known you longer
Than a childhood half lived.
Even though I have forgotten
The sound of your voice
And time erodes the features
Of your face from my mind,
When others remember
Those who lost their lives
I just remember you.
I throw/ scraps of myself/ into still waters/ hope/ that the ducks will come/ and be my friends/ cautiously/ they gather/ scrabbling at my discarded pieces/ in futile belief/ that they can make me/ whole/ but I am stuck/ in a dead end town/ where empty shops/ mirror/ its empty ignorant heart/ and my own heart/ weeps softly for release/ for something more/ than this place
And at night/ when the black dog growls and keeps me/ awake/ barking its contempt/ at my pathetic existence/ I choose to ignore/ and so try/ and win the fight/ so when finally/ the eggs hatch/ and I emerge/ not newborn/ born anew/ renewed/ the same as before/ but altered/ a patchwork quilt/ of who I am/ of who they need me to be
Your face/blurred/ once through tears/ now through time/ no longer matters/ serves only as an anecdote/ a tale of the man/ I used to be/ before I fed the ducks/ and stared into waters/ still/ running deep
I watch
through layers of self doubt
and acres of trepidation
as the world passes me by.
As the planet hurtles
through space and time
I cling to my wasted life
and wonder whether
to get on or get off.
Time heals all wounds
but it can’t heal a mind
dead set on self destruction.
There is no instruction book
no on/off switch
There’s just me
and the twisted logic
of willpower.
Caught up in the epic
of trying to use a mind
against itself;
Change a mind.
Save a life.
Save a mind.
Change a life.
When I was a child,
I was never scared
of monsters under my bed,
the dark,
or the morbid threat
of a half open closet door.
When I was a child,
I never wanted
a night light.
Never needed to feel safe
amongst the shadows,
of my bedroom.
It is only now,
now that I am not a child,
that I realise
this,
is what the monsters wanted.
For given free reign
in the dark,
they crawled from beneath my bed,
and found a new home
inside my head.
Now the monsters
I scoffed at in childhood,
have become
the monsters of the mind.
Filling the gaps
you left behind
in my life,
is the hardest thing.
Those tiny little moments;
inconsequential junctures
of time and space
filled with just you and I.
Unimportant to an untrained eye.
Perhaps,
even to you.
If I could tell you
the things I wanted to say,
I would tell you that
I think you’re beautiful.
I would let you know
how much I wanted
to feel your skin
against mine.
I would explain
how much I feel alive
in your company
how you make me smile
If I could
do all of those things
I wouldn’t need to write
them down
and hope
that someday
you’ll read these words
and understand.
In the very early hours,
as I watch somniferous tendrils
of smoke rise from my cigarette,
I feel the grip of loneliness.
That tangible feeling of its arms
wrapped about me,
like a lover who could not care less,
the reluctant hug of a stranger.
It presses against my body
with an insistent grip
meant to suffocate,
it never wants to let go.
I long for someone to replace it,
peel away its vice like grip,
and hold me tenderly.
Just once.
Just
once.
Sometimes it feels
as though the world
forgets about me.
As if, for a time,
I ceased to be.
Everything I’ve touched.
Everything I’ve done;
erased, unravelled.
My every deed deleted;
it wouldn’t take much.
No-one would remember
no-one would recall
because I’d simply
never existed at all.
No great loss.
Tossed aside like flotsam
carried on your breaking wave.
I tumble to the sand,
a single piece of something more
forgotten and broken.
It isn’t like I blame you
you know I never could.
The allure of something new
something shiny,
something whole.
To fix a broken thing
takes time and so much more
it takes a patient ear,
a soothing tongue,
a calm embrace.
I don’t expect that
you will want to face
the blackness in my mind.
The bleak and hollow echoes
that thump within my heart.
Angst, Love And Other Monsters Of The Mind 