I have too many thoughts,
I want to do something but it’s all in my head,
I’ll have a think and just when I reckon I’ve figured the whole universe out,
I will take no action.

Next thing you know it’s 10 years down the line, with a million wasted ideas and I’m reconciling with myself and settling for absolutely nothing, never mind everything.

Just like everyone else.

My depression isn’t emotional it’s a weight and it’s forcing me to the ground.
It's gonna put me in the ground.
My thoughts are a distraction from what’s truly on my mind.

None of my dreams came true,
now I pretend to take meaning in what I do
and get angry at things that don’t really offend me.
My time’s been and gone,
but I still can’t accept that I lost a long time ago.
At the top of a ladder I never wanted to climb, showing no reason yet still acting like I have presence,
when I have nothing at all.
I must look pretty small from down there
and with it all ahead of them,
the ladder’s shaking.
Rattling.
Trembling,
and I’m about to perish

I wish I’d sat by the window a little more often,
and appreciated my small point of view.

As the sun goes down on my line of vision, I’ll drift and be at peace,
I’ll be in love again.

The fresh icy rain stinging your bare arms,
Trickle.
The first downpour all summer and the streets are a-flood with silver reflections of dusky moonlight.
Fresh.
To the house you plan to forget
yet it seems so central to the plot right now.

Ground zero.
Swimming with vitality and at one with an element much larger than yourself.
The last drop.

Your body surrounded by water,
flowing, on another dimension,
in paradise, free to cross levels of comfort,
liberty.

An expression.

Life is a walk,
through the shallow garbage,
the sociability, buildings, grime, crime, work, homes, towns and cities,
car parks, night clubs and late nights.
Sadness and happiness,
elation and grief,
to the beach.
Where the land meets the sea,
vastness colliding, significance, understood,
In it’s place.
Harmony, clarity and tranquility, your place,
The beach.

When it’s all stripped away, there will be a beach left behind, where land meets sea and life meets heaven, vast and empty.
Take me to the beach.

When I’m just about to fall,
to go forward,
to leave behind,
to see everything I’ve ever wanted to see.

My left hand clings on to the past, twisted round my wrist,
my senses have dulled,
my heart is longing forever but forever isn’t very intense.

So for my peace of mind,

take me to the beach.

The beauty of life isn’t having everything perfect and rosy and all we ever dreamed.
The beauty of life is in the journey of overcoming each struggle.
Battling it with nobility.
Getting down in the mud.
Despite each of us being a means to an end
and none of us getting out alive.
We make art, love,
build from our imagination and support each other with solidarity,
humility and humbleness.
We cherish the here and now and make romance of our adversities.
The beauty of life is in the snags in our journeys that we have to look twice at.
The challenge that we may never overcome.
The beauty of life is in laughing, hysterically,
till the very end.

No matter what.
Despite all opposition.
Against all predictions.
Defying all belief.
Rolling the dice.
Breathing.
Till the very end.

People may say what they want.
Influence who they wish.
Question what they need.
But we will continue putting in the work.
Like everyone else.
In fact like no one else.

Till the very end.