Sometimes,
Sometimes writing is the greatest challenge I feel i will ever face.
It's simple, no?
Pen to paper,
Ink stains in lines and dots and curves
looped and twisted,
curiously carrying subjective significance.
Though uniform,
Every letter as individual as its creator.
Different and the same all at once.
In
a
way
Humans are those letters.
Minuscule components of grander meaning,
Each possessing undeniable importance,
To system and stability
Gluing together the hasty marks of history.
"United we stand, divided we fall"
Order and structure, survival for all.

Cut the silence
Like that slice of cake
You didn't want
A bite of.
Now you're swallowing it
Like the words
You refuse to let spill
From your lips.
Now sugar coated
In icing
Never too cold,
But always frosty.

Last Wednesday, I went out shopping, that’s rare indeed for me,
Just walking along and stopping when something good I’d see…
But then my nose made me aware that strawberries were nearby,
I followed their scent upon the air until they caught my eye…
I licked my lips and gulped with glee… I got my wallet out…
Went in search for every penny and gathered these about…
I took my darling strawberries home and put these on a plate
And honey fresh from honeycomb poured out the jar so great…

Then came a slurping dash of cream anointing all below…
I smiled as if within a dream, as I surveyed the flow…
But then God stopped me just before I started on my treat…
Reminding me it was no chore, ‘Give thanks for all you eat!’
And so I did, right there and then… For cash to pay my way…
For shops to visit once again… for such a sunny day…
No clouds, no rain, no storm, no gale, warm sunshine, that was all…
A little tan for me so pale… a strawberry miracle…

AND THEN… I swirled my spoon around and licked my lips as well…
AND RAISED a strawberry that was bound to cast its wondrous spell…
AND SUDDENLY I closed my eyes and my mouth opened wide…
And tasted Heaven’s sweet surprise… with joy I couldn’t hide…
I guess that I’m addicted now… it’s strawberries every day!
Do I love them? Oh… Yes, and how! I hope I’ll be OK…
Be careful what you wish for, friends! Or you’ll be like I am…
The need for strawberries never ends, so don’t get in a jam…

I’m running out of pennies soon… and then what will I do?
Just stare down at my empty spoon… red-faced and feeling blue…

Denis Martindale April 2018.

My depression is a glass of flat lemonade –
hard to swallow
but I can’t stop coming back to its sweetness.
I have learnt to stop
wallowing in it, though -
deep down there is a part of me
unwilling, yet it knows
to give up trying to get rid
and I’ve learnt to accept,
because despite what I’m told,
that I should not let my depression be so bold
in telling me what to do,
existing like this is almost bearable
because it exists like outer space –
there is so much of it
yet it communicates its complexity in silence.
I am yet to receive a response from the void,
but feeling this crushing nothingness at 2pm
in an aisle of a supermarket
makes me realise it’s not gone yet.
I don’t know if it’ll ever leave.

i needed air,
i needed to breathe,
i needed someone to tell me that i'm okay and i don't need to feel so anxious every morning.
for i,
i feel like crying because i'm me,
because i'm here alone,
sitting with these demons that call themselves my friends,
my gods,
my saviors.
my breath hitched rereading these words,
i felt my heart clutch,
and my brain was exploding over and over again.
i need to breathe,
not even being outside can do that anymore.