Isn’t it funny
How poets dramatise everything
“An ocean of depression”
“A death grip of love”
We just can’t help ourselves
It’s who we are
It’s part of being a poet
Over analysing life
Deeply contemplating death
“What is the meaning of life?”
Everything is philosophical
There’s always a lesson to learn
An issue to address
A heartache to confess

I don't want to walk in to a room full of strangers
have you even thought of the dangers?
Well I have at 3 am each night
they sure do bring me great delight

I don't want to walk in
oh my god give me some gin
They won't like me
I'm just a wannabe
Imposter syndrome
I just wanna go home

I don't want to walk in
They're looking at the white's of my eyes
I don't mean to dramatise
but I might die

I don't want to talk in
and I can feel my chest
I'm so ******* stressed

I'm walking in
Is this auto-pilot because this is your captain speaking and get ready for a crash and ****** burn
I've reached the point of no return

Walk in you big ******* baby
whats the worst that could happen?
I talk too fast with too much passion?
so what if they don't like me I already sound like banshee
At least try to be care-free
I can't make any guarantees
but step by step in to the room
it won't be all doom and gloom

Just walk in and see you might even make a friend in the end
who didn't want to walk in to too

We need to find a new space of revolution,
Beyond this place of pollution.
Democracy’s dying - the chambers of brick and bone can no longer hone the power effectively,
And besides, the mortars crumbling.
Grumbles echo between screens until the rumbles bubble then burst and tumble onto the streets,
but cries are few and weak.
The masses are meek.
‘To question the system is extreme’ media teams scream while they profit from the chaos and hide behind headlines.
The bourgeoisie sit comfortably as their bunkers are fortified,
Happy to capitalise on destruction and dramatise death.
Their crimes are discreet,
And steeped in deceit,
Yet they remain unburdened by the bodies that pile at their feet.
Why bother searching for answers when science is censored and senses are dulled?
They want us senseless,
Immune and desensitised to the countless lies and ecocide.
“Not our species, not our problem”
But it’s both and more.
Our streets,
Our future,
Our planet.
When will the lesson sink in?
When pollution is skin deep and soil bares only the spoils of war?
The climate crisis takes no prisoners, favours neither rich nor poor.
Your wealth can’t save you.

Why do biopics
have to dramatise and
sensationalise?
What is wrong with the unvarnished truth
Do they think that our brains can't handle it?
Harry Houdini the famous escapologist
never hated his father
met Rasputin and never was a spy
He did escape whilst tied to a cannon
with it's fuse lit
and don't ask people to punch
you in the stomach
because that is how he died

Have I wasted years based on a fantasy of unprocessed fears, of daddy issues, and tears
I tear myself to pieces, my stomach is tied in knots, my mind is really broken, and I seem to cry a lot
I’m so desperate for your validation, for your kindness and your love, but the novelty of me soon wears off, and again I’m crushed.
This time will be different, we’ve come so far, we’ve grown so much.
We also made agreements that toxicity was done.
But who the hell was I fooling
Starved of chaos for a moment too long
You feast on destruction, dramatise this new production, which turns out is just a reconstruction, of the time before, and the one before that, I can go back and back.
Am I so ******* up for thinking things had changed
I’m scared to trust my thoughts I think my feelings are insane.
The venom in your voice, the stab of every vicious word
How is this the person who soothed me when I hurt.
How can I trust when you switch on me like that
The welcome mat is pulled and it’s into combat
I am the enemy. I must be destroyed
Just like Andy playing with his toys
Story has it, it will eventually become white noise
This scene has been repeated so much my head is sore
Blame, and blame, and blame, some more.
This time you scared me more than ever before
I’ve seen your darkness and still loved you to your core
But now I’m really sick
I don’t know who I am and my self esteem has dipped.
I don’t remember my smile, I live in ignorant denial.
I’m pathetic. I’m ashamed. I’m weak
Yet I continue to dial your number
Over, and over, and over, and over
Every click to voicemail chips away at my self-worth
I sob my precious heart out, longing to matter to you, coz no one else will do.
I put you on a pedestal and I really don’t know why
Because you’re emotionally abusive and you’ve made me want to die.
But you’ve also made me laugh, you’ve soothed me with your song, you sung me lullabies
And when anxiety has become too strong, you’ve got me to breathe along
You’ve held me and you’ve stroked my hair
You’ve reached out to touch me and to check that I am there
I believed we had an unparalleled connection
Was it self deception? Was I blind and naive?
I know love isn’t easy but should it bring you to your knees?
It’s certainly brought me closer to god
Coz I’ve begged and prayed like a hungry dog
I have no idea where I have gone