If you cared for your life you wouldn’t be here,
my eyes are not worth your time.
It’s a crazy notion to think I’ve made it this far,
where am I to be when I am discovered?
When those around me realise I’m not worth it.
Picking at the dry skin around my fingernails,
alone and doubting my rhyme and reasons,
what would it be like to believe in yourself?
I can’t even begin to imagine how it feels,
a town centre is a world of dread to me,
naked and observed ad-hoc by everyone,
judged in the same horrid way I judge people.
Hypocrisy to a blessing and a curse,
the strongest shield and the weakest link,
but I wish I didn’t give a fuck.
endless ebbs a snaking a drowning
drained waiting undead
hopeful cords break my fall sometimes
a cold empty space in every room
the other they fear to converse with
some other variety of gloom
haunted by a homeless question mark
punctuation and grammar misplaced
a mismatch of tone and narrative
it aches all the time
soft cold air drifting down hard heavy
aimless pressure at winter dusk
the stationary feels heavy in my hand
rotting leaves rotting petals
branches out to catch and molest
bearing thorns waiting in dark
whispering on my neck we hate you
a poisoned kiss placed on nape
cliches in the dark as i walk home
My personality is shambolic,
I could cry at nothing right now.
A desperate need for something
to capture my imagination,
I’m hopelessly doubting everything
and I’m stuck in an otherworldly sense
of constant distraction.
Make everything dreamy I say to myself.
Please tell me a story.
of little interest or consequence
let the dust settle around us
let the ivy creep around us
bones will be left when it’s done
don’t let it bother you
the sinking and the friends
broken on the floor
nourishing it as they scatter
casually flung into the air
with no breeze to catch it
it’s dread it’s dread
IT’S FUCKING DREAD
it’s dread the taste is ripping
and here it lies
STOP KICKING MY FUCKING HEAD IN
get out get out get out NOW
palpable sense of coming after you
is a lie when it nests behind your eyes
flexing it structure
WHY ARE YOU HERE
GET THE FUCK OUT
pretending to stalk when it has latched
wrecking the place
WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING
THIS please stop feeding
The hollowed out, the divot,
temples stuffed full,
packed to the rafters with doubt.
Best to be surrounded
by a select few geniuses
than a swarm of fools,
at least that’s how it should be.
It has crept back in,
making itself at home,
bags and clothes strewn.
The crowds are difficult again,
house and home relentless,
you must interact or else!
The quiet no longer has a seat.
Vertebrae move on marshmallow,
never one to hold my head high.
To be that and then some
but never, if only.