To the bathroom and back through the lounge to the kitchen, on to the balcony, something is wrong with me, walked miles and miles and not got anywhere, not seen anyone, never did anything and if I did it wasn't me, a peculiarity from a previous existence, deny it all, but this is different, there's another me outside of me on the balcony and yet still part of me that's not very pleased and I'm not too happy either.

If I stopped
if I stayed
if I got down on my knees and
the other me says,

"What?, Prayed!
don't make me laugh"

almost now a shadow
I am locked in with a madman
and that's another thing not to be
happy about,

so
I look out of the window
with my eyes tightly shut
which
does nothing
and that's what I've been doing
nothing,

Oh! cooking, I've been cooking
found a book in
the library, recipes from
Madhur Jaffrey,
an Indian,
saw her in 'Shakespeare Wallah'
knew she was an actress
but
didn't know she could cook.

I am a little peck in the distance,
easily swept away by the slightest gush of wind
and the most miniscule wave.
Crushed among the rocks I see a clock,
it’s counting counting down
until we are not wandering upon the face
of the earth anymore.

Where I go no one else goes.
Where you go I cannot go.
We’re a distance apart
and nonetheless we are in the same nutshell
on this earth-shattering ocean which roars
and roars and will not stop.

I just want it to end.

The hopelessness, the fear,
the constant critic in my head:
I've lived with them all for too long.

All I've ever known is this war, this endless battle.
There's nothing wrong with wanting it to end.
To wish that it didn't is cruel.

But why can't the best solution be the simplest?
Why do I have to keep fighting?

At times it's deafening,
and I'm so exhausted.

Why can't I just lay down in no man's land
and let this battle fall silent around me?

Why can't that be the end?

Because... I'll never know what's possible.