I look back at old comments, hoping for something new to see
Some old remark of a person I once was
That stench that burns your nostrils and kills the back of your throat
Stinging into the base of your teeth and down to your fingertips
Bite your nails with yellowed teeth and suckle on the nicotine feed
That keeps you strong
Like balsawood and matchstick towers,
We built our castles in the mud and grit of it all
A glorious death had I not found my feet

Feet running
Running rabid and fast, too scared to slow down
Too nervous to stop.
Stop searching. Stop searching for something to hold onto
Let it all out of you
Hands released
Let the waters take hold of you
floating on top.

So selfish of me to not see the sun
The day breaks and falls to pieces in your hands
Crumbling down with a certain sweetness behind
Like burnt caramel that sticks
As we stand.

How beautiful it is
We talk of fun things and long weekends
Of head highs and analogue eyes
Away from the screens and the mess of addiction
white skies mottled with rose coloured patches
Sewn together jeans with embroidered scratches
Chalk line to measure my affliction
The people I’m with won’t see my addiction.

We sit on the edge of conversation
Hands clasped, feet shuffling anxiously
Eyes darting across the room like
the stars in the night sky
You lean back with a sigh
and I catch you.

Hands together, knees bent
fingers touching skin
Tracing outlines of mountains on the map you offer me
You look up from my gaze and a calmness falls across your face
The corner of our eyes don't wonder but meet
Times entangled in the feast before us
I raise a leg and your knee greets my feet.

Waters greet these feet,
Waters that rage on and under us
Washing over our bodies like the light that’s wrapped itself beside us
Bodies become one in the heat of the den that we've made
In the depts we've paid
The depths we've obeyed
The trust we've displayed

Down by the rivers where the whomping willow weeps,
where the waters run ramped, and the wild things wonder
wonder about life, wonder about death
run through your mind son, be absent, be bold
just don’t forget that the water man reaps
reaps in what is sown, sold and told

whispered. whispered like silence on the edge of the wind
the wind that howls through the corner of beauty
there where it stays and sits for a while,
as the man, he stands, waiting watching on duty.
I look back to you, your face changed by the cut of a smile.

A smile.
That smile, that warms my soul like summer breeze,
Wraps me up and takes me in from the cold
You don't even realise, you do it with such ease
You do it now when we're young and you'll do it when we're old.

We sit, once again, as we used to, but more alone
Hands together, fingers crossed, in utter isolation
It’s such a wild thing, wild life that we’ve known
And none of it is ripe for an explanation.

Feet dancing on the edge of contemplation
This information that we use for the source of our meditation
Imagination sparks conversation but also speculation
So, what are we to do when there’s no confirmation?
A shout shuddering in the darkness of creation
Thinking of the combination, representation and motivation for these words when all I ever wanted was a simple conversation.

Start by writing your names in the stars
Scratch it deep into the cosmos. Deep into the black,
Build your dreams of connection upon what was almost.

One more swipe.
One more like.
One more swipe,
Running across falling cards,
Counting cards like calling cards.
I can’t feel my feet.
Tell me I’m beautiful
Dance with me through poems
And down the streetlights.
Talk to me with words whispered only in my language.
This anguish is killing me, but the shows only just begun.
We must vanquish the sin, and never run into the sun
Again.

I’ve thought about that so many times before,
An itch on my mind like a scratch on the floor.
I’ve seen my face on other peoples memories,
Boxed away in places just out of reach.
It might be my life but it’s just a figure of speech.

A forgotten fallacy, framed through the ages and found in the back room of an old mans house,
Dust blown, leather cracked and spine broken.
Cracked open in two, bent over a knee and followed by the finger.
Put the red ribbon down and let’s talk it over,
Draw a pretty picture and imagine it again.

Where the wind whistles and the dogs howl like stars in the night.
Piercing the black, thick tar in the sky.
Running over clouds and dripping through my mind, thick like treacle but no half as sweet.

One more swipe.
One more swipe across one more greasy face.
My finger slips, skips down the page.
My finger pauses at your gaze.
The taste of your smile as it wonders through
my maze.

I'm sorry to anyone who's got close to me
Felt my feeling and tried to help.
I'm a sinking ship, a broken tool that no one can fix
An unfixable annomaly without a reason.
High all the time to ignore the fact I was never going to die of old age.

Well it will all be for nothing,
But I never achieved much
Never had a plan anyway
So there isn't much to loose.

So if I can push the people around me,
Ensure they never have to face a hurricane alone,
Give them a feeling of existence, happiness and life,
Then atleast my efforts will not be for nothing.

We listened to songs and smoked in our happiness.
We wrote warmth into poems and cuddled at night.
Your smile was contagious, but now it's all gone.
Because the flowers have died, and the petals are sharp.
Theyll never smell as sweet without you by my side.

Cleaning out old files in my mind.
Sweeping away rot and decay,
To make way for new mess.
This endless paradox of insanity.

Pushing the chair away,
Waiting for someone new to fill your space.
This table was once full,
A family of people.
Now it's just me. My poems,
Yet somehow it feels crowded.

An empty room with no air to breathe,
Suffocated in my minds inabilities.
Indecisiveness, breaking news!
"Hey look, everyone. This kid is insane."
In truth I don't know what I am,
Who I'll be or where I'm heading...

Terrified of behind left behind by my mind,
Stuck in a moment that happened years ago,
Clawing with every cigarette he smokes and bottle he drinks.
But the climb is never easy with whiskey stained hands and ash covered feet.

I want to travel to far off places.
Sit in coffee bars writing notes,

I want to go to Paris,
Walk along the river
And feed foreign ducks
Foreign bread,

Smoking cigarettes and watching the sunset, as it kills the day. A romantic display of a brutal ******.
A poets stupid love for foreign places and romance and coffee.

This girl. This ******* girl.
She's drifting into my life like autumn wind.
Running around, catching the leafs,
Because I can't let go of such a gorgeous girl.
Hair the colour of bonfires, wrapping around, warming my heart.
Well my heart's turned to ash and my lungs are burnt,
But she gives me a new reason to escape these demons.

Jesus Christ, I can't get you out of my mind.
The other-thinking and paranoia escapes when my lips touch hers.
A star kissed face, freckles and eyes..
Her eyes.. my God, I could look into those eyes for hours.
Because I've never been good at trusting, and I don't know how to let people care for me,
But I see the same pain behind her eyes,
And it's mesmerising.

A bubblegum girl and a toxic boy,
You sweetened my life, but I pushed you away.
Peeled you off my shoe and threw you in the gutter.
Now I'm missing your bubbles and everything about you.
Well, I have no cash to buy anymore, and no energy anyway.
So ill sit here without my bubblegum girl,
In this blank page, I have created for myself.

Sometimes you just miss her, don’t you?
not the way you normally miss someone,
No.

But in the way that the sky misses the sun,
when she leaves for the night.
when all light is gone,
and all that’s left is darkness once again.

She fell into your arms, didn’t she?
like water down the drain,
she washed away the mess and left greatness,
clear as day.

So, you held on to her, didn’t you?
like a father does a son,
but conflict rose, and thorns grew,
stealing away the petals,
as they fell to the ground.

You couldn’t hold onto her, could you?
not in the way a blacksmith can’t hold a flame,
but in the way the stars can’t hold onto the night,
coz someday, she will come back again.

With teer soaked pillow cases
And broken glass painting the room

Washed clean with liqour
And covered over with ash

A beautiful sadness now speckled our minds,
When petals fall and flowers die
Rivers still run and the sun still sets,

But the stars look down and with sadness In their eyes,
For the sunset will never be the same, without the moon by their side

My life is an animation.
Just a cartoonists drawing as I drip and slide with the cosmic flow.
Bouncing off objects and seeping through the floor, deeper and deeper as I lose myself once again.
Neither existing or otherwise, just flowing and leaving it behind. Scene to scene, nothing more than a prescribed drop of emotions.
A slowmotion adventure as I explore possibilities.

well who knows, maybe if we had hugged a little longer,
and loved a little stronger,
moved a little slower,
and argued a little less.
perhaps then we would have each other.
perhaps in another life,
where we get what we want and we both are fully grown.
but perhaps we polluted a thousand memories with our words when we should have stayed silent.
but plants grow, and people change,
so perhaps we just grew apart, and our intertwined lives became too separate.
because you should never force love, no matter how much you want it.
sometimes,
you've got to let it go away.

Well these ******* naps have got me waking up drunk.
Broken knuckles and scars I don't remember.
So many days spent in a daze,
Drinking and smoking haze.
A complex distraction for a complex problem.
It's killing me, I know, but maybe that's better than nothing at all.

How can you ask a self destructive mess to not be paranoid.
All the nights I spend hating myself
Analysis to a grand scale, of every miniscule detail.
Every second of the sunset, every plant that grows I turn to dust.
Why can I only ruin this paradise,
Too late to save someone, too ****** up to let someone love me.

This is pain,
Ruining my chances and knowing what I've done.
Hating myself for the actions I do, and the things I don't say.
Blaming myself, constantly.

But let's do another line, and wash it down with spirits,
Drown them in substances and pretend we're okay until it kills us.

My thoughts are killing me in this wild overgrown mind,
Where lumps of ash and debris slowly fall downhill.
Water replaced by the blood in his veins.
Where once swallows swooped down from branches in summer,
Crows now crawl out from cracks in his skin.
As he swallows the lump in his throat,
He just wishes it would rot away.

An overgrown mesh of brambles and pain.
Mud and grit coursing through his bones,
Clogging up routes and cutting off his joy,
A broken boy and an overgrown mind.

Because yes,

You are the reason I have these problems, these scars on my wrists and thoughts in my head. My unspoken horror in the night, but you used to be the one to read me to sleep. Like a boy with a magnifying glass, you tried to do everything you can to doubt me, put me over the edge and put a suicide to the front of my mind.
It’s not that you’re mean, horrid or cold-hearted

It’s just that you are only as ****** up as the rest of it, but too clever to see.

Myself, too kind to let him show it, because I was the one who stayed,
Who stayed and held your hand

Who removed the knife and wiped the blood away.

But you never noticed me, sitting there on the floor. An ant on the pavement, as the boy with the magnifying glass cowers over, my life in his fragile hands.

You were once my dad, but I fear you have but become a shell of your former self, and unrecognisable memory of a happy man who is covered in grief and layers of dirt in the form of depression, built up long ago from a broken home.

So, no. I can’t blame you.

You and I are in the same sinking ship, but only one can swim and you always got sea sick. Sick of my company, sick of me.

Well I guess this is me,
They say once you’ve hit rock bottom you can only go upwards,
Well I hit the rock and pushed up into my mind,
Revealed the sky and shot up into the night.
Though all the scars and torture I’ve trodden those that are tattooed on my skin,
The mud might have weighed down my boots but I’m stronger now than I ever have been.

A somewhat sober somebody, turning my life into something instead of melting into another nothing.

Once again in this time zone.
This monochromatic elongated hour,
Where everything is more vibrant.
The air seems crisper,
Your bed warmer,
Your mood deeper.

But as the minute’s tick tick tick by, like the ants on the pavement outside, your mind starts to become agitated and vile.

His cherry blossom heart losing its petals in a desperate hope to hide the fact the neighbours are flowerless.

A gentle rainstorm quickly enlightens the situation as more and more thunderclouds role in from the north.

The north a sea storm, with high mountains and deep valleys
But here you are. once again in this hour, where you are not quite awake, but your mind is alive.

Your body running through the scorching sandpaper desserts down the spine, sending sharp stabbing sounds out into the night.
The night a seemingly peaceful place, but every detail of a sound is amplified, as the walls cave in, turning into speakers of which play only at a frequency which seemingly only you can hear.

Your mouth seems dryer, dehydrated from all the drinking, thinking and linking of random events in your mind, as a mindless car drives by, casting playful shadows that dance and beckon you on the walls, enticing you closer as they play games on your eyes, casting spells on your senses and messing with your mind.

2 am.

This place is neither real nor otherwise, but perhaps it exists in this hour of the night.

Well, we walked and we talked and,
You said we were better off alone.
But these words will mean nothing,
When I'm sitting on my own.

A memory of a memory,
Echos threw the darkness
Of his head.

And as the pain will come back,
He'll replace you with drugs instead.

The doctor visits broke me
And the hospital stayed in my head,
But they said sorry son there is no cure for a broken heart
Or messed up head.

So he sits and he waits dreaming of
Memories from a life he never had.
He never had.

Well the shouting and the fighting
Drew us far apart.
But you will always be special,
Like a sunrise for my heart.

Coz he wrote this on a bus,
While he was dreaming of you.
Coz all the flowers have died,
But the memories still remain.

The petals turned to knives
As they cut through his happiness

And destroyed his self-esteem,
Leaving scars where he went.


So he sits and he waits dreaming of
Memories from a life he never had.
He never had.

Well now he sits in a puddle
Of whiskey, tears, and drinks
To forget the one he loved
The one that he loved.

He spends his time,
Writing love songs for no one else to hear,
But these words will dig deep and then disappear.
Oh, disappear.

An unsatisfied disfunctional
Smoking in the rain

Siting all alone in a puddle of his pain.
No umbrella to shield him, just walls to drown him.
Anxiety and fears surrounding his screams in a muffled muse of fright.

Well don't you know girl,
You're a wonder of this world.
A butterfly's wing wrapped around mountain ranges.
Dancing like lillies on lakes of sunset kisses and morning hugs.
Trapped in the maze of half cooked poems, imagery and pain,
I can't get you off my mind, but I'm really not complaining.

Well my life was doomed from the begining.
Punch in the face by life itself,
Everyone else lives their lives on a predefined pavement
With barriers and lanes, they divide their life into devotion,
Pledging to reach the end of the road.

Well we ****** up few live our lives on a different route,
Far away, a broken road with potholes and cracks,
Called the high way for a reason, a road with no end,
We travel down alone and alone we die.

I'm just stuck in this meaningless messy mush of loneliness.
With a numbing sensation for a brain,
And the thump of my heart keeping me going.

Things lose their meaning and flowers look grey.
I don't know how I feel about anything.
Days get shorter but Jesus Christ the nights are long again.

So let's remember each other from then.
Not from fights or arguments we had...
But from that starlit kiss, we shared,
And the way we froze time with each other's embrace.

"You will get better."

I know.
That's what everyone says.
But after so many copy and pasted memories of the same conversations,
Those words become watered down
And you start to lose your grip on the end of the rope that's holding you together.
Until you find that same rope around your neck.
Or you stay on the end and struggle and fight like hell...
Taking drugs and drinking to make yourself believe you're further away from the bottom.

I guess that's the tragedy of life, isn't it...
Just sad people looking after sad people.
Pushing each other along until they push too hard and someone is left behind.

Yeah, I'm not escaping this for a while...
But Jesus Christ I'll hold onto the end of that rope for as long as I can.
Ill cut and chisel away at it from time to time,
But I'll stay there.
Until I find the strength to climb back up.

So you'll always know where to find me,
Just stuck at the bottom of my rope, like a fly on the edge of a venus fly trap.
A lit cigarette slowly burning to ash in a tray.

In the top most window of an old oversized house, there is a boy looking out…

I leaked my emotions through the familiar window as I watched this slow motion explosion of layered light brightly engulf the sky.

The room itself a simple place, where I’d come years earlier in emergency of a bad dream or scary thought. Now itself becoming a bad dream of a memory, stale with regrets and unhappiness.

That’s the thing, this house is nothing but things, of which I’ve been surrounded by my entire life. Moving from room to room as the memories and anger build up just enough to wreck the room before moving onto the next. An unexplained ****** of compressed claustrophobic anger and depression of a tortured mind.

A disgusting group of goopy mess
A cluster of bandits in town to stay
A rain storm to cloud the sky,
The weathers never been nice, and the forcast looks bad.
Because the mind monsters are back
And they're here to stay.

How can he miss the moon, when she was snuffed out so long ago?
When her light burnt out and she crumbled into two,
Shining brighter in a different sky, than she ever could in mine.

Well my night-time walks will never be the same,
A paranoid insomniacs depressive escape, through anxious gaps in the galaxy, where we used to dance between stars and lay down on black holes.
Well now, it would seem, the night sky is nothing but darkness, where his heart may beat but his mind just hurts.

Let me sit quietly in this house,
The early hours as the sun rises, casting shadows to show duality and warmth to show us love.
A bright blue sky to clear our minds.
But soon I'll be on my way.

Jumping between pages,
A shattered memory and a broken rib,
We burnt out the place my mind used to be,
Left ash piles and Polaroid pictures with little tiny people saved in an instant.
A memory of a meloncholy mood drifting up from my mind as my heart beats faster,
This anxiety is turning my Polaroids into matchsticks, my gut into a butterfly cage.

An ant in the headlights of a car, doesn't think what make and model the car is,
Yet I see my fears, my ghosts and my life and I can't help but be dragged on stage with them,
Analyse them and pester them, taking notes like it's my job, and writing until the voices in my head might finally be quiet.

I guess if I can't quiet my head, I'll leave it instead.
Say goodbye to this cigarette wasteland, with cherries and bongs.
This pyscotic diagnostic of a funny story I once heard, blended together until the lumps come out.
Well he's never been able to deal with himself, his mind, his monsters.. so you'll have to excuse him as he dives into concrete swimming pools, and tries to jump over houses to no avail.

Well he sees his floors in other people's houses, and feels anxious and scared.
You see, we don't like what's wrong with us, so we hide it and lock it away.
But if no one can see them how can they help?
You tell your children they're beautiful,
But it's only because they're your creation.
This is a problem with the world, we never tell anyone how beautiful they are,
So we all just sit like rhinos on mountain tops,
Defensive positions, walls up, guns loaded.
Until that one Disney butterfly flutters by, distracting some as they're drawn to it as it floats down stream and saves them from themselves.

How wonderfully tragic,
A river with no end.
A river that will never rest or be calm.
Where the sun heats the water, and the stars kiss its surface.
Bouncing light off and casting shadows in its depths.
Rolling stones run along the bottom, sprinting somewhere they cant go.
Willow trees take a sip,
As they rest their tired limbs in the waters of his mind.
running through forests, scurrying around mountains built from memories created long ago.
But the water leaks into the earth, and the river slows.
Whirlpools created by conflicts of hot and cold words.
A song, a voice and the beat of a heart, flowing to the sound of the water,
While gentle and calm, but hidden and shy. a blue current of green love.

She is my therapeutic recipe of beautifully placed atoms.

A wonderful arrangement of parts, wound together with love and kindness, hidden behind a fake smile and shy eyes.
her mind a mess with cigarette smoke and memories, brought back to haunt her through lonely nights.

But it is here, in the mind, where she creates the most extraordinary things. Poems and word arrangements in ways I never could, expressing such deep emotions, that bleed from the page. Every word elegantly feeding into the next, delicately woven to appeal to the reader, I could get lost in those lines for hours.

Well, I lost myself in your bedsheets
but I beat myself up when I ran away.
you know that I adore you,
but I've never loved myself.

So how could a daisy ever survive a hurricane?
this storm in my mind is too much,
an unstable anomaly.
sweeping away happiness and leaving a scar across the landscape.

Well, I'm too unstable to ever be any good for you,
so please just find someone that has a paradise in their mind,
leave me in this dust land I live in,
dry mouth and burning lungs,
but my heart will always fly with the birds.

Can you feel it? He says.
Can you feel the mountains crumbling,
Falling apart on a grand scale?

Well I can feel them dissolving around me,
Failing everything and burning the forests down.
Ruining my chances with a girl just for being me,
Coz the rivers run dry with a sludgy mess of ash and liquid confidence.

Running higher and standing tall, but the more I climb the steeper it gets.
The winds whip my face and slash my wrists,
And the one person who can help, is falling down too.
If only I could have helped you sooner.

Up here the butterflies are dragons,
And the clouds are choking me out.
Perhaps I'm not as far up as I thought,
But the pressure here is too much for me, and theres no rescue team in sight.

Sometimes I miss the old me,
The me that would run around in mountains, and swim in rivers.
But now every thought is a mountain and the waters are cold.
My anxiety shaking me back down to earth where my mind is never at ease with the birds in the sky.
Coz the birds, you see, they've never quite been in reach,
Every goal he's set, every day he tried
He always ends up back here, just wanting to fly.

Well it would seem I've fallen into this current world,
Slept in too long and skipped the past.
Found myself awakened by the thoughts in my mind.
A simple conversation to clear the fog of the winter nights.
With neon lights carving lines in the dirt, directing them with influences and tricks.
To better fill their pockets and pride.

Well maybe I'm crazy, but looking back it all looks right.
Maybe my "gut instinct" is more than an instinct.
Maybe I've found myself, lost in this river.
In the calming flow, of ever changing chaos.

All these sad sillouhettes of sad people, artists and creatives.
Smoke filtering through broken lungs.
Rising and lifting the spirits of the dead.

Coz we are the broken few who see the light in the darkest of moments, breathing in the dampest air, and enjoying every moment.

Well we drank too much
And had a laugh.
But the **** are gone and the bottles are dry
The sun came up and laughs turned into tears
Ripping through my mirage or happiness
And showing how I feel.

  Well now I sit and I wait for a bus,
  Because it's off to work I go, with a
  drunk mind and a painful heart.
  But the memories of that night
  remain.

Well you destroyed me,
Ripped the happiness away, shredding my skin into scars as I fall.
I trusted too much and now it's all my fault,
How could I ever hate the one that saved me, even if it was momentary.

You took a poets words away,
And stole my confidence.
So now I'll float through the night sitting on some drug fuelled motorboat,
Trying desperately to escape the iceburgs.

But the water is cold and inviting,
So let me be self destructive as the captain tries his best to fight me.
You've left me in the dust and I couldn't hate myself more.

Unwound myself from this wool just enough to breath,
Cut the rope around my neck and tie my shoes up tight.
Looking in a mirror of reflections, seeing new memories and old balled into one.
Not sure where I am, this mirror maze distracting me from where I'm heading.

Flood me in emotions,
Let me drink from that stream.
Cover me in leaves
And leave me in this dream.

I'm so tired of this two step forward one step backwards ******* that my life has become.
This therapeutic **** up, where I glance between monitors carefully scouring the land.
Punching my therapist in the face before I've even met them, I'm sure my life had a direction at some point.
Now I seem to dance in the moonlight of substance abuse and alcoholism,
But trying to make sense of it all in my mind is the most difficult of all.

Add fuel to the fire and punch a ******* baby for crying, this is the only life you have so do what you want.
Is it possible, do you think, to dance in the shadows of a mountain and think you're in the sun?
Do I love him? Am I ready for that kind of a maze?
Because perhaps I've cleared the fog from inside my mind just a tiny bit and bitten down into my ****** up past, just enough to taste the bitter sweet fuckery that scars my wrists.
Well perhaps this is living, but I've not been this suicidal in years.
So perhaps then, I'm still just as lost as Ive always thought I was.

I want to run away and play hide and seek with my past,
Ignore the alarm bells as fire engines rush past on their way to my heart.
Blank out the headaches and pain with starry sky lollipops and buttercup laughs.

Well you seem to have jumped into my life like some golden ticket I’ve spent my life trying to find.
A gorgeous boy and my tired mind,
Because the toxic fog around my eyes was burning for much too long,
But you’ve cleared my mind and made me happier than any artificial overdose ever could.

Perhaps I spent too long in this box I call comfort,
And perhaps my minds too lost for me to understand,
A barren town of ivy and weeds,
Overgrown memories with a hint of reality.
You’re a ******* breathe of fresh air, for these dusty lungs.. and I won’t stop trying to show you how much you mean to me...

What I would give for another cigarette.
An ash stained mouth and a lung full of smoke,
Spiralling up from the death wish I hold so delicately between my finger tips.
Well I quite a while ago, and yes I can breathe, but why would I want to when I'm as self destructive as I am.
So let me drink from a volcano and inhale the fumes, exhale in one breathe and clear my mind for a while.