You can’t imagine the things I have seen

You can’t imagine my dreams

you can’t think like me in every way

I am unique, I pave the way

I maybe distant

sometimes obtuse

I sometimes let loose

my fears and anger prangs

like a car hitting a wall

but I hold as much truth as you all

See I am schizophrenic

I hear voices

But don’t despair

I see choices

they hang in the air

I have been broken

I don’t expect you to always care

I doggedly battle on

Cause I still know right from wrong

even with whispers and shouts in my mind

I fight to be human and to be kind

Though I suffer with paranoia

the darkness which destroys

I love life enough to stay here and not be destroyed

so don’t have pity

Let me speak and write and sing

because I know sadness is a painful muse

but creativity is my thing.

I come from a lost home

I come from

A lost home

my psychosis at 16

two years of hell

Dad and mum threw me out

My roots broken

Then Living in hostel

With Creaking fire safe doors

council estate yellow bricks and concrete

Dirty mirky stained glass windows

looking out on the world

Not a church

where I would fashion ideals

But a place I could be at peace and reshape my soul

Even in a place which had a

scent of old burnt out cigarettes

Smokey stained furniture

like an old fashioned bed and breakfast

The kitchen smelt of convenience.

Packs of chicken and beef super noodles

Boiling in a pan.

This is where freedom started

Hope in the darkness

Grey days but sometimes occasional sun

Dance music blaring from my boom box

a CD player in my room

chemical brothers basement jaxx tracks

Paper and pen

Penning poems

finding myself

I still loved a girl called Becky

who didn’t love me

I gave up,drinking as my mental health was suffering

Giving up the poison

for my own piece of mind.

Boy in the corner

Boy in the corner
stares into space
boy in the corner
falls asleep what a disgrace
it’s school, lesson time
learning about life
Boy in the corner
Don’t you want a job and a wife?

teacher makes fun
boy in the corner
why are you a daydreamer?
or are you just dumb?
everyday there stare through you
you feel numb
sadness is the only way
to live your parents blame you
they blame each other
boy in the corner
you will soon have a sister and brother

Boy in the corner
its time for college
aren’t you glad
boy in the corner you lost your temper are you mad?
The question hangs in the air
boy in the corner
with hell in your head
Boy in the corner
you identify with Jesus but he’s dead

Boy in the corner
Now you’re in handcuffs
You told the police your him
in a police cell causing a din
they gave you your sins
told your sectioned
and need correction

Boy in the corner
taken to psychiatric hospital
in police wagon
facing the dragon that is insanity of life
you don’t want to eat
For fear of the devil inside your mind
Hated by yourself and unkind

The only way out is not believe your own lies
Boy in the corner
You will your right your wrongs
Boy in the corner you are strong
Stay strong in the character you have chosen
your heart is hot not frozen

Boy in the corner you will climb that mountain
Experience that kiss
Love that woman
you will come through this
boy in the corner
Your heart is fierce
boy in the corner
You are man
you will make the haters understand.

I realised my truth

Sitting in the darkness of my nan’s cupboard under the stairs talking to god

an odd little boy

Who wanted his dreams to matter

Who wanted them to be true

I needed love but I need my beliefs to be real too.

my life’s foundations aren’t love as they ought to be

but wanting to have a special relationship with the creating force or spiritual entity

or maybe to be special or chosen myself

I am the monster who daydreamed blue skies

but when the light in my eyes dies

who will I be?

the man with tears in his eyes for all he let go

the man with tears in his eyes because he never got to let his heart show

someone that they mattered above all

my heart was always a shield or a wall.,,

Strange child blues

I used to talk to god in the dark wilds of my grans cupboard under the stairs

I used to walk around the playground looking for friends just getting blank glares

I used to think god was a man but it’s probably a goddess I was looking for

I used to think I had the key to heavens door,

I broke into her house looking to talk some more

I used to want to be last messenger of god but the girl with many faces needs someone else

I have walked through the white corridors of mental asylums

I have been a child trying to find her

She left me clues

this is the haunted man once a strange child blues.

Panic attack

The breathing, needing distance

Panic attack insistence

beating against the ribs bones and skin

I cannot escape I am chased within

By the a hound I cannot see

It’s agony

My breathing speeds up

I lose my voice

I fear the destroyer of peace of mind

I am the death of kindness

and insistent

to cause such pain

I am agony and fear like death

I am agony and lack of breath

The hero is known as the villain

The hero is known as the villain

Schizophrenia is chilling

in my mind

unkind thoughts strain

hurt by incandescent pain

A voice that chains my soul

yet in the distant soul an angel calls me

the only way I can get to you is time

and living out this life of madness and grime

Songs in psychosis Bio 1

Chemical brothers

Setting sun (setting – grave yard 2003)

Delusions sometimes come in the form of songs. This Chemical Brothers song “Setting sun” takes me back to the September of 2003. My father had been admitted into a psychiatric hospital after a painful (for all concerned) separation from my Mum. I have been facing my own battles as I had been diagnosed schizophrenic only 2 years before. it was a hugely stressful time for me and I had also fallen out with a friend and potential love interest.

In the early September the sun was still shining and is still warm but the leaves were starting to change to a brown tint the promise of autumn chill was on it’s way. All the stress of that and the fact I had with my Psychiatrist’s consent looked to come off my medication. Made me not only depressed but in a rapid cycling spiral like one of those leaves rising and falling with my mood like that leaf upon the wind. There was no way to escape the onset of psychosis and I hurtled towards my fate like a steam train with no brakes speeding towards a signal which was coloured neon red.

In those days I lodged with my boss Dave who had taken me in after my various troubles and dramas with my illness. Anyway he had his Mum staying I remember waking up to strange smells probably forms of smell that were delusions I believed i had heightened sense and my messiah or Jesus complex was rearing it’s ugly head. My Psychosis took me out on Sunday afternoon stroll to the graveyard on the hill by our old victorian gothic style church. Me being me decided in my psychotic state decided that me being Jesus should raise the dead from their graves. This was after I saw that some of the graves had been vandalised. I remember lifting one the head stones back on to it’s other piece I have no idea how I managed to do this. Maybe it was the adrenalin or the chemical imbalance in my brain and body.

I prayed to father God to restore these spirits to their bodies. It of course didn’t happen and made me feel even worse. When you are ill you cannot tell the difference between fantasy and reality. Maybe I was being tested. After praying many times I gave up and laid myself in the corner of the graveyard out of the way from the passers by. I thought I was Jesus and that lead me down the path of being extremely paranoid of being found out and killed. I believed that anyone with the powers of God would be a threat to governments and the people and they would try to suppress or kill me!

I laid with my left arm clutching my stomach and my right arm holding a blade that I imagined in my mind. It felt like my world was ending and I wanted to die. Thats the type of mental pain psychosis brings. The cavernous lows of being buried in the cave of your mind so soon after thinking you have super powers and can raise the dead. I had real reasons to feel this way having seen my Dad struggling with psychosis as well and being medicated. There is nothing worse than being trapped in stressful situations only that of being trapped in your own unkind mind which vilifies you for not being good enough to be human let alone a god.

I had nothing left to give life and the people I loved but the sacrifice of my body and soul I would lay on the grass still dry from the summer sun and die…

However some one answered my prayers to God his dog was the first to come up to me and he gingerly followed. His name was Jon although I believed he was the devil come to tempt me. He asked me who I was and I swear to you even through the years that have passed one of the things I said was “That my body was young but my mind was very old” this was in line with what I had been taught mostly at Sunday school at my local church. Jesus was after all the word of god and had existed throughout time. Maybe if you read the lyrics at the bottom of this blog you will see that lyrics show the devil saying that rather than Jesus but maybe Jesus and the devil are in fact one and the same after all lucifer and Jesus both are bringers of light and gods favourite sons. Anyway I digress.

Me and John talked for a long time and I had visions like the song said. Maybe when you are mad or in madness there can be seen some truth in the insanity that is the world we live in. He I soon realised was very drunk and when he took me to his house down the road to get some help for me his partner who was a nurse and was very drunk also they offered me some alcohol. They didn’t know my back story and thought I was high on drugs.

Eventually Dave and Phil (my friend and neighbour arrived after they managed to get me to remember Dave’s home phone number but Jon and Liz thought there was something dodgy about my friends maybe it was the fact that I was acting so irrationally and that the situation was out of hand. But I am thankful that after an hour of speaking to Phil and Dave they let me go with them. I am also thankful to Jon the good samaritan for his help that day because If he hadn’t of found me I don’t know what would have happed later on with me in that state.

However this part is probably down to Jon being drunk but her swore that he saw a black blade in my hand when he found me and thought that with me clutching my stomach that I stabbed myself…

You’re the devil in me I brought in from the cold

You said your body was young but your mind was very old

You’re coming on strong and I like the way

The visions we had have faded away

You’re part of a life I’ve never had

I’ll tell you that it’s just too bad

You’re coming on strong

You’re showing your colour

Like a setting sun

Where do I begin

Sunday morning I’m waking up

Can’t even focus on a coffee cup

Don’t even know who’s bed I’m in

Where do I start

Where do I begin

Sunday morning I’m waking up

Can’t even focus on a coffee cup

Don’t even know who’s bed I’m in

Where do I start

Where do I begin

Where do I start

Where do I begin

Sunday morning I’m waking up

Can’t even focus on a coffee cup

Don’t even know who’s bed I’m in

Where do I start

Where do I begin

Where do I start

Where do I begin

Inside the mad man

The clammer of the overthinking overwhelmed mind

chattering away with itself like a overused hard drive.

Hope, but she is a caged bird waiting for her master

faith but all faith is enslaved in disaster.

A sonnet of despair, a song of solitude

a monologue of filth and the rude

a innocent boy and a prude.

A crazy overbearing self talk squawk

a chalk drawing of heart that’s been erased.

A penis looking up at the sky

A black dog biting its owner

A loner waiting for the strength to cry.

Freedom from attachment

but a wanting to be engaged and attached

Discourse divorced a face scratched.

silence like a scream

a dream turning into a nightmare

a blank stare

a daydream being expelled.

Hell carrying on into a lonely hello

An eye open that cannot be shut

a slut shutdown clown

love becoming only a noun.

Dear Diary (warning contains themes of depression and self harm)

Written in creative writing class.

 

Dear Diary

It’s 3 am and I still can’t sleep,
When I think of the bullies at school I weep.
In creeps the hunger to cut and purge again,
The cut of the knife hurts me, though it focuses the brain.
Droplets of blood drip onto the floor
Dull and red, one blood stain more.

In my heart loneliness slowly kills
Making me feel isolated and numbing my will.
My parents are caught in their own private war,
Unaware of what’s happening behind my bedroom door.
My parents are furious at my falling marks at school,
However they haven’t noticed the cuts on my arms at all.

I am left in this house which feels unsafe and unlike a home.
I panic when I am left to my own devices all alone.
My breaths come fast, uneven and I feel sick,
Sometimes I can’t breathe at all, my heart races too quick.
When I was at primary school I had good friends.
These days I feel let down, they’ve turned out to be dead ends.

It’s a shame they all left me and shot through,
now bullies flock around like vultures picking at all I say and do.
Last Tuesday I bunked school and spent it walking around town
people stared at me, making me feel even more down.
I was feeling as if no one understood
So I went to a river near a wood.

I made for my house when it was time to go home,
but the school had already contacted my Mum by phone
My furious Dad threatened me with grounding.
I said “I don’t care! I like my own surroundings!”
The truth is I don’t want to feel anything anymore,
So I pick up the knife to cut myself some more…