Man sits in his room.
Teddy bear replaced by ***
Still hugs. Warm he needs.
Two seconds — you got a £1, madam?
Nice day. I promise it’s not for drink. It’s to live. Hug without consequence?
Do you remember, have you asked?
Warm worth the consequences.
Sit street, get cent
These aren’t for wishing on All there luck fade off What the ****
I wish for spin, sip. Five minutes freedom from sensation of consequence. You imagine world upside down as inconvenience. I imagine I’m in the recovery position.
How many hours must a man lie hard street waiting for this recovery of hug consequence?
I’m starting to wonder if this recovery position works.
**** No £1. He doesn’t look like beggar. He a fake. You can tell by shoes. They make hundreds sitting there, you know. Where are we going for lunch?
Again shoe off — charity to have warm feet. **** kindness of Timberland. Not look my face or nails or desperation. Let yourself feel better — wise himself. Office work gone though. Judge by charity and rumours.
Your wise is why you are bottleless. *** — a consequence of a system. Go to coat exchange.
Be given leftover fresh scrapping. I work hunting 9–5.
Not obtain a blessing fur. Plastic dreaded fresh-tanned oil fur. I work for it.
Begging wearing clear fake. Would you risk trip to the exchange?
Mommy, when do I get the big room?
Don’t you like yours?
You’re next, one big as city stars shine down on your cardboard.
A man goes forth.
A man went forth.
Forth went.
Jan 27
Jan 27, 2026 at 12:27 PM UTC
****** Leaves My System
Others — white and dark —
Order their coffee in environmental mugs.
You don’t get stars,
Only reused syringes.
****** leaves as joy —
A nub with no shadow.
Trauma’s shadow is bright white
In my pipe.
Who says addicts are unclean?
I scrape my pipe and cooker,
Shockingly clean.
I don’t get anything.
UC tomorrow —
Do you sleep sound?
The rush — excitement.
Why wrap so tight?
Don’t break the crack in the pipe.
Sounds like joy.
Smoke fills my lungs.
Yet I get nothing.
In burning light,
Where was my life?
Vapor fills the room.
Oh, there’s a feeling —
I’m content.
How about you?
Could you ***** yourself a hundred times
Just to feel a little?
Stop — there’s blood in the needle.
You think an ****** is good?
You’ve never seen blood mixed with life in a needle.
Trust me — don’t try.
You miss all the shots you don’t take.
Ones you don’t take can’t **** you.
I wish they would —
The ones that hit hurt more than the ones that miss.
Well, ask him:
****** needle, arm —
The true holy trinity.
Just ask Jesus —
Blood of Christ, blood of an addict,
Redeem me.
Needle exchange —
Well, I need a life exchange.
Maybe something sharper.
Sorry, I meant to say spare change.
May 21, 2025
May 21, 2025 at 1:33 PM UTC
Pip
Permanently imprisoned, Peter
The generation aren’t suffering anxiety
They are trapped as Peter Pan
With the ever increasing house prices, the lack of good jobs, the inability to form relationships.
We left our kids stuck, never able to grow up, so they rot, became more unfulfilled.
Imprisoned as a child.
Lack of hope, regression into computer games,
Fake achievement, never seeing a friend.
Trapped at mom and daddy's, enjoying a house price rise and a pension.
Knowing on an Asda salary their best hope of owning a house
Is to mortgage themselves to the point coffee is too much.
A holiday a dream, travel done after uni, not later.
And retirement at 75, ready for a care home.
Odd winner getting graduate jobs and escaping as Wendy birds.
If that was your life, wouldn’t you be depressed?
Score.
On PIP.
They finally get a house — mom and dad die, if they avoid a care home.
The American dream at 65 — homeowners, no hard work.
But not killing yourself before mom and dad
With **** drink, or a rope.
Even a car, boy to see his friends — with insurance is too much to ask unless mom and dad help.
Three years at university — that being out on license.
Mom and dad need a care home, it will all be taken away.
Ironically being orphaned at 40 is winning.
Take another spliff, try to not look forward.
You will lose your PIP, have your last bit of freedom taken.
Oliver's son is still asleep on the sofa.
The only way to get a house
Is to get a baby when you’re not ready.
Hope the state gives you one.
Enjoy the poetry.
This generation doesn’t have Charles Dickens.
The beauty being made into delicate snowflakes,
To be crushed under Jackboots of a failed system.
Only the old work-from-home people don’t have to worry about the snow.
You don’t get a waterproof house as you walk to work.
Child unable to build even a snowman, let alone a life,
While mom can’t see beauty in a snowflake.
From their house, tax you to pay for their pension.
To envy mom's frozen tears, leaving no trail to tell of the suffering.
Of course PIP is gone.
Your low wage is the old greatness gift.
If you get a snow shovel, food, you might make your own path.
But I’ve Deliveroo food.
I don’t want to go out there in my boots.
I will catch a cold or COVID.
It’s number 9.
Close the gate behind you.
You step off the path — 3 stars.
Think about that.
I enjoy my meal.
Don’t ask for more.
Oliver sings and dances on West End now.
No dancing in my conscience for you asking for more, sir.
Bing bing — one delivery of gruel.
Get walking.
Time for sale.
Don’t eat my gruel.
Better be warm and delivered with a smile.
A second 3 star — you are on the sofa.
Hope mom got nice house.
Good news — it’s Oliver’s house.
Wasn’t he fortunate to inherit so much.
Now Charles wears a crown,
Doesn’t use a weapon of pen and ink.
No how dare u ask me for more
I lost my free tv license I will have u know
God snowflakes how much is the wagu today
Not frozen wagu I don’t like to defrost
How was job search son ? Find anything?
Well you’re only young me at 36
May 11, 2025
May 11, 2025 at 9:18 PM UTC
My friend is coming today.
No—my friend is coming tomorrow.
My daddy says so.
Dad says the house must be clean,
or my friend can’t come.
He is coming tomorrow—he really is.
The vacuum only holds so much.
I work all day.
My friend is coming today.
No—my friend is coming tomorrow.
My daddy says so.
But it’s not clean.
I sweep and sweep—maybe I weep.
The tears stain. It’s not clean.
My friend is coming today.
No—my friend is coming tomorrow.
My daddy says so.
As soon as it’s clean.
I put my toys away.
I stack and stack,
boxed and neat.
But I imagine a game.
I play alone—still make a stain.
My friend is coming today.
No—my friend is coming tomorrow.
My daddy says so.
As soon as it’s clean.
Yet I’m still playing alone
Feb 27, 2025
Feb 27, 2025 at 10:10 PM UTC
Some say hell is other people—
they have met their fathers.
Some say hell is being alone—
they live as me.
Some say there is no hell—
what sheltered lives they have led;
I envy them.
Some say the world is hell—
how I pity them.
Some go looking for hell—
are they really that lost?
Some are born into hell—
welcome to the modern world.
Where is your angel?
Isaiah—Not Market Viable.
Our Bible is copyrightable.
Serpent, Demon, be the poet.
Let’s crucify the poet,
I’m not looking for Jesus.
He has no profit, perhaps,
The prophet forgot to only prophesy profit.
Prophecy of the profit poet is dead.
Some say he is in hell so dream another dream
Feb 27, 2025
Feb 27, 2025 at 9:34 PM UTC
The lights i live by Are not disco lights
They go red , amber,green
Red man , green man
Does movement or stop
Fill my crippled paper cup
I like the light it crackals
But I live by is darker
Lives beneath my skin
Were I am dead
Maybe one day
It will be my disco
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Do you have 50p
Really i need 20
Nov 12, 2024
Nov 12, 2024 at 2:38 PM UTC
For those who can’t face today but still long to see tomorrow, ****** offers a warmth that feels like hope—a hope that never arrives. A wingless, voiceless Gabriel, can’t promise solace only lead leaving at roadside, blind to the other sun. Their false dawn was beautiful,The arch-addict Michael, fallen in his original sin, trading his sword for the syringe. The internal demon is the price many pay for fighting their devil. And as they slip into that false dawn, some are left to wonder: Is it strength, or surrender? It’s nice to think, That could never be me.
Oh how little faith u have This is you for a few missed steps You for that truma, but it’s ok u can see the sun . Is it the dawn , or the dusk. Bright or the dark. Harder to see on the choppy sea. My dreams use to reflect on the still water
Nov 12, 2024
Nov 12, 2024 at 8:32 AM UTC