Cast forward to those first days
where half clad trees
coax memories of freshness

though you’ve stepped out
wrapped still in winter blues,
insistent sun and boisterous green
beguile you to disrobe
and give skin to this

welcome discomfort
at being over-encumbered
as the new season embraces,
the shedding can begin

Rest as a remedy,
forced to stay put,
instead of filling my head and feet with
a million next steps
and very necessary jobs and concerns,
I have to sit

the normal distractions
I covet in the pell-mell of things,
box sets, deep cuts, long reads, levelling up,
lose lustre fast
I glaze-stare at the fictional tree line
ticks trickling to tocks

From deep below I hear the slow plod
thudded footfalls of ‘those’ thoughts,
sensing a weakness in the barricades,
heaving down the drawbridge
usually bound firm by chains of daily grind,
LED light show and the world’s digital caterwaul

My busted foot has robbed my nimbleness,
unable to glance, sidestep or dance aside,
our eyes catch and fix,
like the titans of the twilight
their inexorable, gargantuan tread reaches me

I put up a pathetic wrestle
before I am pinned by the weight
long past the three count
frantically tapping on the mat
my morse SOS growing weak

Please Doc,
just give me a dose of elixir so they’ll retreat
and my broken *** will ride
a frivolous winged horse
back to safe and anxious ground

Just hold on
It will be alright
Just stay strong
You can win this fight
Just keep going
Till the morning light
Just keep warm
I’ll hold you close tonight

He plays himself

With a mask like soaked clay

And faux tears on-command,

All you can do to cope with the hindsight

Is to say you were brave for sticking with it

When you weren't brave enough for the alternative,

Voice like a whisky-croak and words that

Ring of sweet nothings but really mean nothing at all.

Blood on the carpet. Never coming off

And never failing to remind you of what you did and didn't

do wrong.

You figured you'd make boredom into something

Less important but the meaning of any philosophy

Is dependant on the day and the weight of the past it carries--

**** it

Bassline stranded on the boderline, that is to say

Stuck and unfixable. That's part of growing, right?

Dealing with it and moving on, forming a character

From a tortuous pantomine; doing the impossible in

Ameliorating light strictly with the tools given to you

by the dark room you were raised in. Rise or sink.

It was out of your hands, your actions moving forward

Is all that has to matter now.

Just hold on until tomorrow.

Another day here.
Another day gone.
Another day wishing
I had somewhere I belonged.
Another day comes.
Another day goes.
Another day with nothing to show.
Another day begins.
Another day ends.
Another day with no new friends.
But in spite of it all,
I still hold on to hope
That someday, someone will help me
Be more like a river
And less like a wall

I'm not here to tell you
how to live your life.
All I ask is that
you don't look at the knife
With admiration or longing.
Because there's so much coming
That you can't see.
So please hold on.
If not for you, for me.