I asked him, "When will I be set free?"

He grinned, "Very soon."

After years of 'very soon', I stopped asking.

It was then that he broke my silence,
"Will you not ask when will this be over?"

I chuckled, I am now wiser.
"How can I ever escape from my demons?"

I finally ******* get it
I need to know when to stop
I need to know when to focus
Enough of the smoke and mirrors
And all the hocus pocus
I’ve got to be preoccupied
To keep everything off my mind
What am I doing with my time?
Am I only a distraction
Instead of being the action
People wanna move
Standing still will make em snooze
Instead of being tight
I’ve never tried with all my might
Nobodies going to tell me what to do
If I expect it I’ll be *******
I cant let my **** be loose
Waking up is only the beginning
The rest of the day still needs some filling
My level needs to be higher
So I can gain and be desired
My brain had gone haywire
But I’ve finally fixed the wires
Finally some of my demons can retire
There are more moments when my head is clear now
Maybe I can finally get the standing ovation while I bow
I want to inspire
Be more than just admired
I want to truly be love
Tired of the when push comes to shove
I don’t want to fight anymore
There’s somebodies children I want to bore
What kind of mother would I be if I was just another chore

I'm not a good person,
I'm just a somebody that
does good things.
All of my sins can be
swept under the rug
in exchange for hollow gestures
and empty kindness for those
who do not mean me harm.
I am not a good person,
but it's easier to get away
with more when you wear the mask.

A shiver creeps right through the house
Searching hard for a spine so to tingle
It scuttles and darts around like a mouse
Hunting just for the right soul to single…

Out for its attention. Upon which to blow
That cold icy breath; to make shudder and shake
The one that it settled on never will know
Why they felt such a fear when not even awake

For it found them and used them
Wrapped and smothered their skin
Pricked and tickled their body during deep REM
A dream frigid and sharp and as bitter as gin

Oh the terror it gets you however you try
Shoots hard up your back as the strongest of shingle
The worst thing about it is you never know why
With your deep darkest fears it’s determined to mingle

©pofacedpoetry (Billy Reynard-Bowness 2018 – All rights reserved)

When it's blown to pieces, that's when it becomes art.
Art is a demon, a demon that drags you along.
It's messy and ***** when it pours out of you.
It's not something you can stop even if you should.
Maybe your wife leaves you
Maybe your kid runs away
Maybe you go insane..
You throw yourself away to be an artist

I've been feeling out of breath lately.
My lungs don't inflate properly anymore.
Waking up is the most taxing task that I have to accomplish on a daily basis.
I've been sleeping in,
And even after I wake up I stay in bed for hours.
It feels like the weight of the world
is crushing my chest.
Like an anvil is being dropped on my shoulders a hundred times a day.
I feel like Giles Corey;
Crushed by the weight of falling rocks.
Rocks that look like people I know.
Rocks that feel like sorrow and death and tears.
Being pressed to death by demons that accuse me of wrongness,
by demons who surround my head with dark thoughts;
by demons who claw at my throat,
tell me to do bad things.
I'm constantly running from the black mist in my mind.
Trying not to be swallowed by it.
But I can feel these shadows on my back,
and what lurks in this darkness nipping at my ankles.
And the more I run,
the more out of breath I feel.
And when I turn to give in to the shadows,
I have no more breath.
I can't inhale, because I've been crushed.
I suffocate; I can feel my soul dying a little,
Piece by piece, it crumbles until I am nothing.
I am out of breath now.