My Younger Self

If I spent time with my younger self, what would I say?

Well done for putting up with this bullshit every day

If I spent time with my younger self, what would I see?

A weary acceptance that life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be

If I spent time with my younger self, what would I feel?

An overwhelming sadness that time will never heal

If I spent time with my younger self, what would I do?

Tell them to pack a bag and run away with you

(Originally Posted 24.07.2019)

‘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)

Sailing

‘Choppy waters ahead, Captain, but I see dry land on the horizon’.

‘Drop anchor here then, Sailor, for I’d prefer to die in the storm’.

(Originally Posted 27.03.2019)

Hold Tight

That roof is calling my name.

I know it is.

I can hear it.

Every day its voice gets louder and louder.

Every day I’m drawn closer and closer.

I went up there tonight.

Just to the edge.

Just to look.

I held on to the safety rail.

I cannot promise that tomorrow,

I won’t let go.

(Originally Posted 26.03.2019)

Out of Space

It's like I'm an alien.

Cast adrift on the wrong planet,

Slowly waving cheerio to the spacecraft as it departs.

'Please, don't leave me behind...'

(Originally Posted 06.03.2019)

 

Not Today

No-one can shield me,
from this pain within.

Nothing can soothe me,
now the rot has set in.

At All

I reach
for your hand,
but it’s not there,
and further into
the abyss
I fall.

I search
for your face,
but no one cares,
and it’s like you
were never here
at all.

He Said / She Said

One day
You might be somebody’s something
He said

But today
I am nobody’s nothing
She said

One day
Somebody might love you
He said

But today
Nobody does
She said

Alphabet Heart

Atrophied. Abandoned.
Bleak. Barren.
Crumpled. Cracked.
Dark. Dank.
Embittered. Enraged.
Failed. Forgotten.
Garotted. Gutted.
Hateful. Haunted.
Indignant. Idle.
Jagged. Jaded.
Knocked. Knotted.
Longing. Lost.
Maudlin. Morose.
Nightmarish. Numb.
Obstructed. Obliterated.
Paralysed. Prone.
Quiet. Queasy.
Rotten. Ravaged.
Stolen. Shattered.
Traumatised. Tainted.
Unloveable. Undone.
Violated. Vanquished.
Weeping. Wasted.
Xxx
Yearning. Yawning.
Zero.

Must Try Harder

You must try harder, he says.

Harder to smile,

Harder to laugh,

Harder to forgive,

Harder to forget,

Harder to live again,

Harder to love again.

You must try harder, he says.

I can’t, she whispers

I’m sorry.

Waiting

It’s like you’ve been round at your pals house for the evening, and you’re going to call me in a minute to tell me you’re on the bus home…

But you never call…

The Bridge

Today, I choose not to jump.

Tomorrow, who knows.

I am already standing too close to the edge…

 

First Day Back

Dishwashers rattle
Kettles bubble
Doors bang
Toilets drip
Heaters blast
Floorboards creak
Keys jangle
Voices whisper
Switches flick
Mouths yawn
Arms stretch
Feet shuffle
Computers hum
Mouse wheels tick
Photocopiers whirr
Printers churn
Keyboards click
Phones trill
Mobiles buzz
Pens scratch
Papers rustle

My Heart Breaks

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

India

I don't have the strength to write anymore...
And you think packing me off to India will help?

I don't know why I'm crying anymore...
And you think packing me off to India will help?

You sad, deluded, unfortunates. 

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