Dreamers disease

You never see my pain

behind the cold rain

I hide them all the same

A so called weirdo

I don’t choose to be schizophrenic

it’s God’s epidemic

when the cave man called to the divine

when he spoke to the trees

as gods when he believed

did you think the ones who didn’t believe

tormented him yes they probably did

but without looking outside our shell

we can’t see heaven or hell

and if you don’t look science as well.

The Character we are

In Stories written

I am smitten by hero or heroin

Life is stranger that the art we stare in

fairy tale romances underneath the surface glances

uncovers a setting

But I am betting you couldn’t of picked a better villain from your library book

But look,

and you will see

that there is a reason behind

their evil mentality.

It starts with there parents story

as it recycles on

Unhappiness detachment from love

is a somber song

sometimes played from a harp.

We are not the people who we thought

we are the stories we tell ourselves

the book our character is the one we tell ourselves we ought to play

but in the light of day

and in the night time

we hold onto the person we’ve told ourselves

we are,

whether we are lion king

or scar

we are not the character written on our forehead by god or the stars

we are the character fashioned and shaped by life our parents and ourselves

But do you know we can change our fortunes by changing the way we think

about ourselves in our own head

by burying the past and leaving it for dead.

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.

Disappointment

Surrounded by opportunities
Which have been given
Laid at my feet but I need to be forgiven
Because I burn them as offerings
To my self for filling prophecy of pain
insane, I wonder whether I will receive them again
the world draws out the worst in me
If I am surrounded by arseholes cursing me
then won’t I can’t just give in.

Or is my life just a sin?
A tall tale of talent for sale
I move like a snail
when I should hunt like a bear
I stare at advertisers glare
at posters the only person who can change my life is me
I alone hold the key
But in the mirror the reflection I see
Is taunting the shy retiring me
and he keep my status quo
By keep taking the punches low
If I was boxer I be rocky
On the ropes
An eloquent man but also a joke…

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…

 

She’s trouble so they say

She’s trouble so they say
She’ll slay your heart
Tear it apart
Never mind her history
She’s a mystery
Neglected as a child
Emotional abuse
she hates men
Does she have a reason?

Behind her eyes lesions and cuts to her soul
Though they call her slut and say she’s out of control
She yearns and burns for a man who will calm her inner being
See the hurting girl inside who’s trapped in her own head
Instead of taking her to bed for a one night stand
A love that hold her through the lonely hours
A love that will never sour
Or grow cold
Or scold her for being her
A love that inspires fire
That comforts her
and talks her through agonising visions of the past
A love that lasts.