‘It’s still early days…’

I wake up with Harry the cat walking over my face. Fuck, is my first thought. It’s Saturday.

Saturdays have become the most difficult day since you’ve gone. Saturdays mean at least forty hours must pass before I can go to work and have something positive to distract my mind from my impenetrable sadness. I count the days in my head – you died 13 weeks ago today.

I push Harry off the bed and turn onto my side. I pull the duvet around my neck and scrunch up my eyes, trying to block out the daylight from the window. If I can just go back to sleep, even for a little while, at least I won’t have to face being alone with my thoughts. I try hard to think of nice things and drift off back to sleep. Of course, it is to no avail. Apart from the fact that my toes are poking out from the bottom of the bed and are in danger of being shred to ribbons by a predatory Harry: I need a piss.

With a heavy sigh I sit up. Carefully keeping the duvet around my neck to ward off the impending chill, I hunt around the bed for the remote control and turn on the TV. I’m amazed at how reliant on the TV I have become. It’s now on more often than off – the inane chatter of random game shows preferable to the otherwise morbid silence.

When Harry’s cute but fucking annoying meowing finally becomes too much to bear, I haul out of bed. Pulling on yesterdays t-shirt and joggers from the floor I walk through to the kitchen. Harry weaves in and out of my legs nearly causing a catastrophe more than once. I look in his dish – little bastard still has half a meal left from last night. There was no need for him to wake me up at all.

Poor wee thing. He’s been finding it hard too. Since you died. He just doesn’t like being alone. I top up his food and water bowls and he tucks in appreciatively. I give him a pat and head to the bathroom.

As I move my hands in and out of the water coming from the tap I examine my face in the mirror before me. Just look at the fucking state of me. In my late thirties I’m not exactly in the prime of my life but still…really? Jesus. I’d like to think I’ll look my best again one day but I’m not sure I ever will. My hair is greying, my face is blotchy and bloated and my eyes are like piss holes in the snow. Thankfully my clothes hide the worst of the hideously overweight, stretch marked, cellulite ridden body that I know fine well I live in. To have to look at that this morning would really push me over the edge.

I go back to the bedroom and jump back into bed. As I get comfortable Harry comes to join me, settling on top of the duvet for cuddles. At least I still have this little bugger I think. Without him I would truly have no one. I know it’s sad to view your pets as humans – but I’m taking all the friends I can get right now. I need them since you died. I reach for my other friend – my vape – and I am momentarily soothed as the nicotine rushes through my blood stream.

I consider getting up, getting dressed and going in to town to buy some shit I neither want or can afford. It’s how I’ve tried to fill the gap since you died. It hasn’t worked the last two Saturday’s though, so there’s no point trying again today. I set the TV to put itself to sleep in half an hour and settle back down again. I pull the duvet around my neck and close my eyes – Harry still purring away beside me.

The days news is burbling away in the background. Some cold and unfeeling male voice is revealing that, apparently, the country is only a week away from World War Three. Definitely best not to go out today then. I drift off into a restless sleep.

I wake up with Harry the cat walking over my face. Fuck, is my first thought. It’s still Saturday…

Friday 29th September 2000

It's been a month now since I moved in with you
and I have never been happier.

I know now I love you.
For all the good and all the bad - I love you.
I love being near you,
being around you,
and just having conversations with you.

I love looking after you,
making sure you are okay,
and that you are safe in your head and in your heart.
That you can face the day with a smile.
That is what you do for me, after all.

Whatever happens from now on,
I know I will always love you.
I will always want to be with you,
bicker with you and watch TV with you, 
drink tea with you and sleep next to you.

Just knowing you are there with me is enough.
Just knowing you love me 'a bit' will be enough.

Only I know how much I love you.
I just hope one day you will feel the same.
I hope, with all my heart and soul, that you do already.

I don't think I've cried this month ... at all.



She leans against the window
She rests her head in her hand
She smiles

She wonders if you are the one
The one who she can allow those feelings for again

She leans against the window
She rests her head in her hand
She smiles

She knows 
It's pointless

Loving You…

feels like I've been thrown into the Loch, 
the freezing water sucking me down,
with no one on dry land to throw me a lifeline.

‘7 months on’

I'm not sure what's worse.
Not knowing, or knowing that I could have known
but was too scared to find out.

If only I wasn't so fucking awkward, 
I would know now.
I wouldn't feel the way I do, 
thinking every day 'what if?'

I'm sure you've moved on,
but I haven't.
I'm sure it meant nothing to you in the first place,
but it did to me.
I'm sure you don't even care anyway,
but I do.

I want to find out.
I want to know.
But I don't know what to do.

Please let me know how.

‘And then you spoke to me and said…’

You spoke to me without being forced.
You said my full name, without being told what it was.
You looked at me.

I was happy just to see you.
Being in the same building as you again sent chills
down my spine and welled tears in my eyes.
I had recognised your presence and then let it go.
Like always.

But you took it further this time.
You spoke to me without being forced.
You said my full name, without being told what it was.
You looked at me.

I could not believe what was happening.
My foolish response - 'Wow, you know my name' -
swirling in the air around us,
choking me with its embarrassment.
You smiled your vacant smile.
You muttered something and walked away.

Words cannot describe how I felt.
You spoke to me without being forced.
You said my full name, without being told what it was.
You looked at me.

It made it all seem worthwhile.
The years of following you. The years of obsession.
You spoke to me.

I had to get another drink and light a cigarette.
So, I noticed, did you.

When you spoke to me that second time,
I don't think I was present.
I had seen you walking in my direction,
but I had ceased to exist.
You said 'I see you all the time at parties,
but I never get a chance to talk to you'.
I drowned in the ecstasy of your words,
and further still when you said 'See you soon'.

Those three words gave me so much hope.
Hope I never had before.
Not even after the notes...

For the rest of the night I watched you, watching me.
At least I pretended not to watch you,
pretending not to watch me.

But I was so happy.  Elated in fact.
You had spoken to me without being forced.
You said my full name without being told what it was.
You looked at me.

When you left the room, and I watched you go,
you didn't just take your pretty little head with you.
You took a piece of me too.
A piece of me that will be with you always,
and lost to me...forever.

For MR


Long Distance Train Journeys

They say you don't know what you have got until it's gone.
And what they say is true.
I understand that now.
Now it's over.

Mind, I never really had you in the first place did I?
It was never official.
It was never a proper relationship.
It was just sex.
Mad, passionate, glorious sex.
Maybe it is my fault.
Maybe I don't take life 'seriously enough'.

All I know is that at 4.08pm my train will leave Central Station
and you will be in Cambuslang.

And I'm going to miss these last seven weeks forever.


‘Natural Entities’

The rain lashes down remorselessly.
Pelting, splashing, bouncing upwards towards the sky.

The thunder rumbles angrily.
Crashing, reverberating, making its presence felt.

The lightening cracks fearfully,
Illuminating the sky in a cinematic silhouette.

I look out of the window and all is calm.
I realise this tempest exists only in my heart. 


When you are misunderstood is when you are alone.
When you are alone is when you have no one to talk to.
When you have no one to talk to is when you are silenced.
When you are silenced is when you suffer.
When you suffer is when you cry.
When you cry is when you are in pain
When you are in pain is when you erase yourself.
When you erase yourself is when you cease to exist.
When you cease to exist is when you are dead.
When you are dead is when you are happy.

When you are happy is when you are dead.  

A Poem from Myself to Myself

Sitting here alone
Silence all around
Can't wait to go to sleep again
Where solace can be found

Gazing up at the pale blue sky
Watching the world go round
Wondering what is kept up there
And why I'm stuck on the ground

Ambivalence haunts all of my dreams
A victim of this I have found
Can't have been waiting in the queue
When the valium was handed around

Lying still in the dead of night
Quaking at every sound
Fate twisting it's evil knife
My emotions forced into the ground

It hurts to see myself like this
My thoughts all tied and bound
But when I can no longer laugh
That's when my life shall end

The Queen is Dead, boys
She is no longer crowned

Driving Home from Campsie

When you drive down from the deep and darkened hills,
you can see the city lights shining.
You can feel them.
She draws you in with infectious breath.
She implores you to enter her.
You want to be with her.
You can't imagine a life without her.

Only in the deep and darkened hills...


Who knows why I do these things.
Even I don't know why I do these things!
I know they are stupid, pathetic and immature.
And yet I still do them.

I ruin peoples lives.
I fuck up people's lives because my life is fucked up too.
It's like a revenge I love to wreak, but feel guilty about,
later. When it's over.

I just don't understand myself.
I make these things happen.
I lure people into my trap, spit them out
and then ignore the consequences.
Sometimes I wonder why I drink too much, smoke too much
and delve into substance abuse...

It's to cheat myself from the truth.

I am a fuck up.
I am a fuck up who fucks up other people's lives,
just for the fucking sake of it.

You have no idea how bored I have become.
Of fucking that is.


You make me feel like I could jump from the top of the world…

…and still survive

Pubs, Clubs and Other Establishments

It is strange.
You are told that when these things happen, you'll just know.
You won't be able to catch your breath,
your stomach will be in knots 
and a thunderbolt will fly through the sky.
But it doesn't ... it didn't.
It is strange.

It is not that you are particularly handsome - you are not.
But it's the way you make me feel.
You make me laugh.
You make me smile.
I look forward to seeing you.
I look forward to you coming to see me.

But I know there is no future in it.
It will not go anywhere.

I want the thunderbolt.
I need it.


‘Of Course…’

There was, of course, a time 
when I wouldn't let this happen.
There was, of course, a time
when I'd have pulled myself out of this
mess and just got on with it.

But not now.
Now I feel different.
I've lost the need, the sense of urgency.
I'm not even worried if it doesn't come back.
I've given up hoping it will any more.

Although I know I can't carry on like this.
And honestly, I don't want to.
To get out of this shithole I've got to work.

And there is, of course, only so much daytime TV
you can watch.


Je Suis Morte

I've been here so many, many times before
I'm just fucking bored now.
Bored with the fucking lot of it.
It's pointless now.
Not that there ever was a point, obviously.

Je Suis Morte.
I Fucking Wish.