You are not permitted
to have any real emotions
to have any real friends
to write any real words,
the tyrant brain decreed.
We will ***** a barbed wire fence
we will dig a trench ten feet deep
we will let black hounds run free
to keep the world outside
and to keep you in.
The tyrant brain says
if you don’t try you’ll never fail
if you don’t seek then nothing will elude you
if you don’t think then nothing will confuse you
so don’t try.
The tyrant brain is a ***** bomb
And I hold the detonator
do I push the button
or throw it away and cry
If you ever lose your ability to smile
I will lend you mine, although it’s out of style
to care about how other people feel
Neither of us are like any other people,
you’re somehow more real
and you make me real too.
If you cannot face another day
please don’t fear the trials that come your way
look in the mirror and think of the bad things
that happened in your life
think of all the bad things
and say this – I SURVIVED
Procrastination will be the ruin of me
if this cocktail of caffeine, nicotine and time
doesn’t **** me first.
Procrastination is my most toxic trait
apart from a tendency to joke
about things I shouldn’t.
Procrastination is my favourite pastime
How else could I live for 29 years
with nothing to show for it?
Procrastination is comfortable
like a set of pyjamas
but sometimes you’ve got to get dressed.
Procrastination is sitting still
watching the world spin without you
and saying you’ll catch up later.
But later is never now.
You talk too much for your own good
And smile too little for my liking
I would crack a joke to lighten the mood
But you seem to find humour frightening.
What’s it like living in such an awful world?
You say paradise is laced with landmines
Hidden meanings are waiting to unfurl
But sometimes a rhyme is just a rhyme.
Thank you for wearing your heart
like a cosy red sweater
your grandma knitted for you.
It makes me feel a little bit warmer
and a little bit fond of you
though I’m naturally melancholy.
I live in a strange age;
falling into depression
is easier than falling in love.
My face is far from photogenic,
but you would never guess
that I am fatter in real life.
I examine myself through a filter
that makes everyone look beautiful
but I have never felt uglier.
All of my friends are a click away
and I speak to them all at once
yet see none of them.
I can buy anything I desire
with money that doesn’t exist
but how do I make myself exist?
I have no memories of my grandmother
No photographs to cherish
We shared a birthday
But cancer stole her from this world
Before I could meet her.
I will never hear her voice
I will never hear her laughter
I will never know her sense of humour
I will never see her smile
Or her eyes sparkle
But I know that I would have loved her
And she would have loved me.
I have never visited Granny’s house
On a miserable rainy Saturday
Never been greeted with fresh baking,
Or a dinner she’d been cooking
And I sometimes feel sad
But I once heard someone ask
Why the best people always die too soon
The reply was that we are all beautiful flowers
And only the most special ones get picked first
It sounds like a stupid platitude
Something people say to console themselves
But in my Granny’s case it must have been true
Because none of my birthdays have passed by
Without me wishing she was still here.