In times of extreme stress -
My peak anxiety,
I come out in terrible spots -
Just one or two
strategically placed.
*******, why tonight?

The better *** is so obvious on a night out,
Where there are always men
Walking around, sad and alone.
While the women always hunt in packs.

If God exists and he is great, fair and just, why does my nose always start to itch when I'm in the shower and my hands are full of shampoo?

She doesn't realise I'm madly in love with her.
She's so in love and it's beautiful
and it kills me...
I guess it's all out there now. ****.

I came to the beach today because I've so much love to give.
I came because I've nothing else good to spend time with.
I came because it's healthier than getting drunk on ***** -
Better for your health than watching movies or the news.

I came to the beach to feel the breeze brush across my face,
To watch the foam fizzle and the memories erase.
I came to the beach today to feel completely free
To escape the many wrongs of life and all the tyranny:

To see the sea, you see, is just a free therapy session.
Unfortunately salt doesn't quite cure depression,
But what the hell's a cure going to do to change,
To change a world that's doomed to always stay deranged.

The beach is ever-cloudy and is always filled with stones.
It's cold to the point you cannot even start to feel your bones.
There are too many people to put my mask on to...
Too many people with stupid questions to ask you.

Girls in bikinis , having a swim, who clearly are psychotic,
While I'm just sat here watching, writing, and being neurotic.
I came to the beach today to try to help escape my pain
It didn't work but, hey, at least I did escape the rain.

I came to the beach today to try to look at life anew,
But really, I just came to the beach today because of you.

Anxiety is the thought of people as scary
And the thought of death or loneliness as comforting.
In 2016, look around and tell me it's odd.

Surrounded by such eternal happiness, there's a soul-crushing, heart-breaking loneliness to it all. So I drink and wait for the pain to end.

Now it dawned on him why he couldn't get his mind off her. She had that Audrey Hepburn air and like Roman Holiday he just couldn't look away

The more he thought about it, the more Audrey she became, until her class, grace, breathtaking good looks and her smile were just cinematic.

He could write endless books about the curl of her lips when she smiles but they would be futile in expressing truly how they made him feel.

A horrible thought wanders by, as I dream of my fellow HP writers who have put pen to their pain, and wonder how many I've hearted are dead.

In Wicklow, the stars shine brighter.
You'd think they would offer some inspiration,
But all they do is remind us how *******
small we are.

It's only just November and I'm already dreading the inevitable loneliness, the capitalist greed, and eventual meaninglessness of Christmas.