Looking In

I close my eyes.

Where once there was vividness
There is now a vague blur.

Stories and visions intermingle
A kaleidoscope of confusion.

Words and non-words alike
Are spoken and responded to.

The allure of reality is lost,
Replaced by the bliss of the abyss.

The joy of not knowing
Is ever more tempting.

Closing my eyes to avoid it all,
To get to where release was once felt.

But no more.
The avalanche of memory greets me.
I cannot escape the pain inside.
I long to let it go.

To let it all go.

---

This poem is from the book, ‘Words On A Page’

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i drift

i drift

away from you
and
from the parts of me
that know i am drifting

only later
do i see
my wake

i hear your words
i see your pain
i know you’re suffering

logically
i realise
that you
need me

it doesn’t help
me to connect

i drift

painful realities
dissipate upon arrival

i drift

directionless
and
devoid of meaning

a raft
without a sail
oblivious to nature’s whims

i am corrupted
by
the act
of forgetting
the act
of forgetting

the pain
is saved
for later

i drift

---

This poem is from the book, ‘A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken’.

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Paradox of Affliction

I need you to help me,
But you overwhelm me.

I need support,
But I cannot bring myself to ask.

I need an intervention,
But I will fight against change.

I need answers,
But I don’t know what to ask.

I need a miracle,
But I don’t believe they exist.

I need something,
But I don’t know what it is.

I need this to stop,
But I’m too afraid to act.

---

This poem is from the book, ‘Bound To The Wings Of A Butterfly’.

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Memories Compress

Memories compress,
In the recess of the mind.
Thoughts confined,
By the passing of time.

A shine dedicated
To a past divine.
The horrors expressed
So totally mine.

Waiting untouched,
A defensive confine.
Dissociated reality,
A false sublime.

Seen from above,
I’m left in a bind.
A fist is raised,
Told to stay in line.

Flashes of vision,
Pain a bright shine.
A hollow city,
Dysfunctional and blind.

Memory as a curse,
A picture of crime.
Cause and effect,
We’re both doing time.

It’s all guess work,
Just a twisted game,
Played against the self,
On the battleground of shame.

I don’t know much,
My brain is maimed.
Functional enough
To get itself tamed.

Forever questioning,
Looking to blame.
No way to win,
Just playing the game.

Victory is simple,
Just stave off dying.
Survive the day,
Then breakdown crying.

Because memories compress,
Forgotten with time.
Until you’re stupid enough,
To open your mind.

---

This poem is from the book, ‘Bound To The Wings Of A Butterfly’.

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Memory Violation

Brain oscillation,
No concentration,
Thought invasion,
Constant rumination,
Memory violation,
Past commiseration,
Unwanted stimulation,
Apologetic compensation,
Fleeting determination,
Hypocritical deliberation,
Personality creation,
False presentation,
Total ostentation,
Needing defibrillation.

---

This poem is from the book, ‘Bound To The Wings Of A Butterfly’.

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Flashback

There’s nowhere you can run to,
Nowhere you can hide,
Not when your problems
Are coming from inside.

You cannot escape them,
You cannot leave,
Now that blood is
Running down your sleeve.

Don’t try to face me,
Don’t try to hide,
Mummy, Daddy,
Why weren’t you by my side?

Do I want to sober up,
Or do I want to die?
Blank memories. Pain.
Watching his hand touch up my thigh.

I couldn’t say no,
I couldn’t flee,
Nothing I tried
Broke his hold of me.

Years have passed,
But his grip remains,
He took my body,
My soul, my brains.

So now I’m sitting here,
Stoned and alone,
Trying to remember
If I have ever felt at home.

---

This poem is from the book, ‘Words On A Page’

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Dissociation

I see myself, and I see myself seeing myself;
Trapped in an infinite regress.
Triggered.
I don’t know what I am,
Other than, that I am the ‘other’.
Separated.
I sit in the eye of the storm,
Enjoying the false calm.
Rumination.
Picking the poison to escape my mind;
My father’s curse, passed down to me.
Stoned.
I should lean towards hope,
Look to the light.
Futility.
These words have no meaning,
I am incapable of giving them any.
Numb.
No happy ending, no fresh beginning;
Just nothingness.
Life.

---

This poem is from the book, ‘Words On A Page’

Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, or Audiobook.