Another Wasted Day

It’s four twenty five in the afternoon and I’m still lying in bed.

Trying, in vain, to sleep away the thoughts inside my head.

Perhaps I should get up and go out for a bracing walk instead.

It has to be better than staying in here and wishing I was dead.

(Originally Posted 22.06.2019)

‘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 to distract my mind from this impenetrable sadness. I count the days in my head. Thirteen weeks. You died thirteen 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 seeping in 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 to 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 I have become on this screen. It’s on more often than off now – the inane chatter of random talk shows preferable to the otherwise morbid silence.

When Harry’s cute (but really fucking annoying) meowing finally becomes too much to bear, I haul myself 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 causing a near 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.

He’s a poor wee thing though. He’s been finding it hard too, since you died. He doesn’t like being alone much either. I top up his food and water bowl 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 tap water I examine my face in the mirror. Just look at the fucking state of me. At thirty eight I’m not exactly in the prime of my life, but still, really?! This is what I look like now? Jesus.

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 scarred, stretch marked, cellulite ridden body 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 have him I think. It’s better than no one, and I’ll take all the friends I can get right now. I need them since you died.

I reach for my other friend – a cigarette – 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.

I remember it hasn’t worked the last two Saturday’s, 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, five people in China have died from a mystery illness. 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…

(Originally Posted 03.03.2019)

Imprint

I roll over to your side of the bed.

My limbs search for yours,

My lungs for your scent,

My mouth for your kiss.

But all that’s left is your imprint.

So my tears fall into your pillow,

Once again.

(Originally Posted 23.03.2019)

Running On Empty

I am so tired

I want to go home

To sit in the quiet

All on my own

For I’ve had enough

Of this battle of wills

I just need some silence

To cure my ills

Plus Ca Change

So
this
is
it

Lying
in bed
all day
again

Wine
and
cigarettes
my only
friend

I’m so
bored
of this
shit

I
could
make
myself
sick

I
really
am
nothing

But a
nauseating
prick

The Dream Catcher

Bad thoughts creep

As I’m without sleep

For yet another night

Fears won’t keep

Whilst I lie and weep

Losing the will to fight

Mother’s Ruin

As
the rot
starts
to set
in

I
pour
myself
another
gin

To
silence
the pain
in my
head

As
the
thoughts
seem to
shift

My
mood
starts
to
lift

And
I can
finally
get out
of bed

Cambuslang

All
those
days we
stayed
in bed

They
rattle
around
inside
my head

Until
the tears
run from
my eyes

As the
love we
shared
slowly
dies

Xxx

I’m Here All Day…

I’ve
slept
most
of the
night
tonight

And I
haven’t
yet
got
out
of bed

I wish
I could
say
I am
ill or
something

But
it’s
actually
just
apathy
instead

Self Inflicted

I’m not
moving
from
my bed
today

At least
until this
hangover
goes
away

Then
I’ll curl
up on my
favourite
armchair

And eat
crisps
all night
without
a care

8.05pm

I can’t
be arsed
with any
more today

I’m just
going
to go
to bed

At least
that way I
might get
some respite

From the
voices
inside
my head

Tuesdays

Waking up tired,
Heart already in pain

I really can’t be arsed,
with this shit again

Haunted

Death
peers in
through
the gloom

As I
lie here
alone in
this room

Upon
this bed
we once
shared

Crying for
the love
we once
declared

Forty Winks

Why do
I bother
coming
to bed

It’s not
like I
can
sleep

All I
do is
fucking
lie here

Overthinking
and
counting
sheep

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