Tag: effort

I Can’t Be Arsed

Is this all there is now

Just sitting here killing time

Waiting for the next one to come along

Getting stoned and drinking wine

You see I’d rather not bother

Wasting all this time and effort

I’d prefer to end it here and now

And all my earthly ties sever

17

Writer’s Block

I try to write but the words fail.

Sit, think, smoke, exhale.

As I reach for the coffee cup,

I wonder if my time is up.

Have I forgotten you,

Is that what this is?

The reason I can no longer write this shit?

Or could it be this depression is finally lifting?

Maybe the all encompassing darkness is shifting?

Perhaps after all this time my heart is mended.

And my love affair with words has ended.

(Originally Posted 11.08.2019)

28

Once Bitten

I’ve dreamt of you before

She said

And I didn’t fall for you then

Well I’m here in real life now

He said

So let me try again

21

Only Joking

You’d
think it
would
take
some
effort

To
write
as
much
as
this

Well
please
don’t
think
me
arrogant

But
it’s
really
a piece
of piss

17

Pen & Paper(less)

What
is the
point
in any
of this

In
trying
so hard
all this
time?

What
do I
hope to
achieve
anyway

By
writing
this
useless
rhyme?

26

Pre Booked Fun

Are you
sure I
have to
come out
tonight

As I
really
can’t
be
arsed

Apart
from
anything
my face is
a fright

And the
will
to get
dressed
is sparse

8

The Struggle

When you see me, you see the finished article.

Washed, dressed, hair in place, make up on and a smile on my face.

But you don’t see what it takes to get there.

You don’t see me trying to muster the strength to open my eyes in the morning.

You don’t see me forcing my weary bones out of bed.

You don’t see me berating myself as I sob in the shower.

You don’t see me looking in the mirror as I question whether or not today is the day.

You don’t see me wracked with indecision on what to wear.

You don’t see me soothing my pain as I twist and pull out my hair.

You don’t see me apply make up in the hope it makes me disappear.

You don’t see me riddled with anxiety as I lurk in the doorway.

You don’t see me breathing deeply before finally pushing open the office door.

When you see me, you see the finished article.

But just because you don’t see the struggle, doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen.

Just because you see me smile, it doesn’t mean it’s real.

How I look, is not how I feel.

18

Options

I am amazed, yet again, that I’ve found the courage to get out of bed.

You have no idea how hard it is.

This sustained internal struggle.

The conscious effort required to motivate myself to move.

The strength of belief needed to convince my anxious brain that we can get through the day unscathed.

It’s exhausting.

If only I could return to the naivety of the past.

Travel back to a time when sadness was mere affectation.

Where melancholy was a comforting friend.

And death wasn’t such a viable option.

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