It doesn’t look
Like my body
It doesn’t feel
Like my skin
Beauty may come
From somewhere
But it’s certainly not
From within
"All my life's buried here, heap earth upon it"
It doesn’t look
Like my body
It doesn’t feel
Like my skin
Beauty may come
From somewhere
But it’s certainly not
From within
It’s like reading
Someone else’s words
Lines
From a different story
But the heartache and pain
Mine they’ll always remain
So for those, I will take the glory
Poems From Another Time
It’s like reading
Someone else’s words
Listening
To someone else’s story
But the heartache
And the pain
That’s still all mine
(Originally Posted 18.07.2021)
It’s a word I use a lot
‘Abyss’
Reading back now
I have noticed
I hadn’t quite realised
How numb
I’d become
Or how dissociated I was
When I wrote this
Dwelling
Pain helps, momentarily.
It provides a fleeting relief.
Then the numbness returns
And living inside this emotionless abyss, continues.
(Originally Posted 12.07.2019)
Jesus.
How depressed was I?
I’d travelled over to Dublin
Albeit with a heavy sigh
I remember all those people
And all the fun they had
I remember trying to fit in
Even though I was pretty much mad
It’s sad to think back now
On just how much I missed
As I may well have been there in person
But I clearly did not want to exist
Travel
It doesn’t matter where in the world you go.
How beautiful the country you visit,
How fascinating the people you meet,
How much booze you drink.
You can’t run away from your thoughts.
You might have a different view from your window but your soul will remain as black as the night sky and, beneath it all, you’ll still be the same fuck up you always were.
Travel solves nothing.
(Originally Posted 30.03.2019)
It’s like reading
Someone else’s words
Listening
To someone else’s story
But the heartache
And the pain
That’s still all mine
To not know
Who to trust
Certainly fucking hurts
But to be unsure
Of ones own self
Is infinitely worse