It's hard for me to say how I feel sometimes,
With all the ups and downs,
And violent, stomach-churning, headaches
That violate basic concepts of biology.

It's hard for me to say how I know
What it would feel like to drown in wet cement
And how my throat would feel as it started to harden,
My lungs to shatter whilst freezing in time.
But I do.

It's hard for me to say to my parents that I'm unhappy.
They, who raised me well and gave me privilege,
And brought me to live in the ******* Caribbean,
And enabled me to go to university.

It's hard for me to say that I'm depressed.
That life itself has revealed its true ****-stained form.
That I'm unsatisfied with my privilege,
The things that they sacrificed for me. That they mean nothing.
But it's true.

It's hard for me to say that I'm depressed.
But it is a necessity.
It is keeping me alive.
Reminding me that there is something wrong with me.
But I can be okay.

It's hard for me to say that I'm depressed.
But I can be okay.
Can't I?
There are good days and bad but it never seems to leave...
It is a shadow cast over my being,
Cast over my brain.
But I can be okay.
Can't I?
It's hard for me to say...

Because you said you're poetry inclined,
And because I have something on my mind,
(Along with the fact I have a long walk home),
I thought it fitting I would write this poem -

To express, permitting it doesn't sound too weird,
(Despite the fact I have a paedo beard),
My joy on bumping into you this night -
A darkish day upon which you made bright.

For, although you joke that bi-annual contact best
To being friends, I do have to suggest
That since I've been back home it's helped a deal
To talk to friends over drinks or a meal

About the seemingly insignificant things.
Nobody appreciates the joy this brings!
To a fool like me, who quite frankly is saved
By hearing how friends have acted or behaved,

Like success in college or thoughts that you are fat
(A ridiculous suggestion - I'll vanquish thoughts of that!)
Because collectively I don't exaggerate,
They have pulled me from Hell's (once soothing) gate...

So, I suppose, I'm trying to say thanks for being a friend
And because I don't see you enough
I feel like I can get away
With acting all gooey and stuff
And, quite frankly, a bit gay.

You could have been my Catalan queen.
Such a pocket-sized delight,
Like the one sung by Jack White,
But more of a fun and friendly scene.

You studied graphic design,
And looked after my Spanish group,
And made me want to always stoop
To embrace you for all time.

I'd have given the world to see that smile,
See your beauty one more time,
Sit down with a glass of wine,
Or beer, sangria for a little while.

The offer was open, disguised by others,
And I strongly felt that you were keen,
But, alas, the student's disco scene
Would prevent us from being lovers.

And so I sit, alone with pen,
And mourn what was never meant to be -
It breaks my heart that it is likely
That we will never meet again.

The weather outside is indeed frightful
Despite this the window is left ajar
To stop condensation engulfing
The already icy bathroom.
I disappear behind the curtain
Dressed in a much bigger version of my birthday suit.
Leaves are glued to that open window by ice.
I shiver, shaking until I have the courage
To turn the taps on-
OUCH!
An agonisingly cold burst burns my feet,
My right arm twists desperately
Until my skin starts to suffer a different type of burning,
My left arm mimics the dance my right performed just moments ago-
PHEW!
Finally the water overpowers my goosebumps
And perfection is created.
I can now unleash heaven out of the shower head.
I am being kissed by Niagara Falls.
Steam shrouds the room
And the music begins.
If only life were as perfect as this,
As perfect as a warm winter shower.

It approaches swiftly.
A monsoon of rain readily setting off
Naive natives and their tiresome routines.
Shutters shroud the windows with irrational security,
Sandbags too are placed; it must be a big one!
Clouds roll and tumble into position.
A sunset evaporates quickly,
Yellow to orange to red and BANG,
As quick as a flash of lightning it blackens.
Pure darkness, but for humanity’s scars.
Another scar takes their places
As a deafening crash collapses the eardrums,
Seconds after its divine light pierces the sky,
The soul and that artificial light.
Darkness now, but for lightning,
Blinding flashlights and candles.

Dewy droplets descend into view,
Dripping hopelessly through a silver fork.
Frightened faces too are seen,
Made more frightening by flashlight.
Rain, lightning and thunder
Can’t silence children’s cries
But can still awaken the waves –
Serfs turned warriors in an instant,
Harassing the horrified sandbags,
Overpowered and silenced.
The satanic storm battles on
Callously battering a weary world.
The sickening sun shines into the eye
And a torn green turtle begins to cry.

The false excitement is over now.
I am at home, without work; without friends.
Trapped in the prison called life,
And dying in the slowest way possible.
****** into solitary confinement,
I am eternally confused.
I should be happy but I am frustrated.
Frustrated at myself for wasting time.
Shackled in chains of boredom,
My routine has changed.
While I welcome the lie-ins I have never welcomed change.
The school holiday is over now,
And again I am unhappy.
It is books that chain me now,
And my teachers, the wardens who harass me.
Life is back to how it should be-
We all hate it, but enjoy the company.

This beach had luscious palms
That restricted the ever-powerful sun.
This beach had golden sand
That provided endless means of fun.
The sea, a beautiful turquoise
That combined with the scorching sand as one.

That burning, yet it doesn’t matter, sand.
Fingers sifted through granules so fine,
That distant tropical land,
With that beach of beauty so divine,
With a sand and sea and sky sublime.
How depressing that it once was mine!