I feel so domestic.
I'm honestly craving that 40s housewife life.
Cooking and cleaning all day,
Modest lipstick and pincurls.
Constantly barefoot and pregnant,
Floral dresses and pearls.

I wish it was easier for
people to forget, if things left their
mind as easy as they let
them in, tough skin
wouldn’t wear thin
as easy as it is right now,
my past is full of imperfections
and bad decisions, leaving unstitched
incisions beneath the brink of sanity,
but who’s isn’t? every time falsities
start, my mind races
with my heart to contemplations on
when to finish, they tattoo the past
of others on their insecurities,
fuelling the fire that burns a hole
into respect and reputation,
creating a vicious cycle
of revenge and envy,
each gossip verbally vomited
into naive ears pulls the marionette
strings of perception into the road normally
taken, two roads may have diverged
at a yellow wood, but when the ignorance
burns yellow to ash,  the road less taken
seems blocked, so the next time you hear
something about another, don’t be too quick
spread the word, the game of
telephone can get a little distorted when
the next phone call
you get is that they
were found hanging from
a rope.
                                MJB

You may not be surprised to hear
After being brought up by a violent mother
And years of reckless living
That I have had therapy several times
And bought several t-shirts
Art therapy
Group therapy
****** therapy
And it must be said that they helped
Along with proper medication
Things improved and I became calmer
In fact, a certain amount of peace descended
And many people were kind and helpful
But no-one tells you what to do
During long hellish nights
When your spine and brain are screaming
Reminding you of just who you are
And why.

                         By Phil Roberts

Just look at me now.
All gift wrapped, and such
Do you like what you see?
Cause I don’t, very much.

                    As the lying won’t cease
                    And my truth is horrific,
                    You don't want to ask me
                    To be more specific. . .

So I’ll say goodbye
And tell you to go;
Don’t look for a truth
You won’t want to know.

i just want to die.