Honey Lemon Sunshine


You can lie to the world, but you can’t lie to yourself. 

You can dissociate from the world, but you can’t dissociate from yourself. 
~~~

I wish time would stop– just for a little while. Let me live in this moment– and this moment only– just for a little while, without feeling the grains slipping through my fingers, without thinking about what next, without worrying about significance, without worrying about the future or the big picture. 

Just a pause to do nothing but soak in the moment, without it running by and slipping away into oblivion. 

The moment I mean– it feels a pretty colour. Light– like honey lemon rays of sunshine, or crystal turquoise streams of water. But lighter, much lighter than either of that. Just a swash of colour and light enough to float you away. 

~~~

Downstairs someone is shouting, screaming, fighting. 
I really hate it when people fight, when people scream, when people shout. 
When I hear the anger and venom in their voices, I want nothing more than to shrink and shirk and hide away, away, away… 

I feel like shouting back at them (ironic)
take your fight somewhere else
don’t destroy other people’s peace,
other people’s moment
I can hear you from the 40th storey for crying out loud


but while their voices, reflected by the ground, travel up
mine would merely be whipped away by the wind…
whipped away by the wind. 

A cup of tea 
would be nice.
or honey? 
tea with honey? mm. 
~~~

and you write.
to what purpose? 

we went up, and we went down
we went fast, we went slow
we expanded energy, then we ate
we started at a point, and ended up at another, not too far away. 

to what purpose?

to what purpose, any of it? 

who has the task
of injecting meaning
fashioning purpose
is it god? ourselves? 
or something in between? 

Waiting Dreaming Hoping Loving


Waiting, waiting
Ever waiting
Waiting till the ends of time

Waiting, waiting
Calmly waiting
For the day you’ll again be mine

Dreaming, dreaming
Nightly dreaming
Of you, with you in normal life

Dreaming, dreaming
Shattered dreamings
Of you, with you as my wife

Hoping, Hoping
Ever hoping
Rightly so, this hope is frail

Hoping, hoping
Futile hoping
Yet it remains so hard to kill

Loving, loving
Unconditional loving
Once in my heart forever there it’ll lie

Loving, loving
Silently yearning
Just like hope, love never dies.

Not.


Reality seeps
through my fingers.
I am
not.

One foot, then another
moving but going nowhere.
Unseeing eyes
unsmiling smiles.
Pumping blood
without a heartbeat.

They’ve turned from
a misplaced reality
into fading memories
ashen grey and almost-but-can’t
forgotten

Reality was taken
but was not replaced.
I am
not.

Demon II


Dear demon,
I know you inside and out;
you don’t scare me. (Much).

Dear demon,
I can’t block out your whispers.
They swirl and lodge in my brain.
But I can ignore them as best I can–
Delegate them to background noise.

Background noises may eat at your soul
Slowly eroding away your sanity.
But at least they can’t reach controls
And I live to see another day.
(Although you tell me I don’t want to
and I half believe you.)

Background noises “disappear” as you acclimatize to them
Even though they’re always there, plaguing your subconscious.
“The secret is, I’m always angry.”
You could hope they’d fade for real, in time
But… how can you tell?

Dear demon,
I know you through and through;
you don’t scare me.
You are me.

You’re not external made internal
I’m not ‘demon-possessed’
(People who think otherwise–
out sourcing your ‘bad’ to demons and your ‘good’ to angels–
who are you then?)

You’re internal
made detached.
Filtered out and quarantined
Leaving just the sane for the world to see.

We all have demons
The only demons we ever need to battle
are ourselves.

Demon I


Everyday
A demon whispers in my ear.

you don’t want to live
he breathes
you don’t want to be here
you don’t want this, any of this

imagine the blade
across your skin
silently slice, slice, slice
again, again.
hypnotizing comfort.

imagine the height
imagine the flight
what a rush!
of adrenaline and wind

Along the streets and roads
come and crash us down, come on.
Around the corners
sudden headlights and screech of brakes, come on.

what else does he say to me?
no one cares.
what else does he say?
you’re as alone as can be.
its echo-y in my head

((no one cares))(caress)(caresss))
((you’re alone))(alone)(lone..))

you don’t want to live
he coos
your life, so dead. empty. meaningless.
there’s nothing here. 

Everyday
A demon whispers in my ear.

Battling Demons (That feeling)


that feeling
on the edge
almost coming

fighting, fighting
fighting the demons (of self)
fighting the darkness
fighting back tears.

sharp smells
bright lights
memory is like smell and taste
can’t quite pin it down
describing never does it justice
but it’s so strong, so poignant.

fighting back thoughts.

that feeling:
all consuming
an emotion morphed
and spilling over
into sensation

that feeling
suffocating, all around
pressing in, closing in
can’t
breath

that feeling
like it’s
not worth moving
not worth opening
your eyes
not worth breathing
not worth living

that feeling
so unbearable
that a mental scramble
for remedies
leaves you thinking
only this:

chop off my head
just wanna chop off my head
surely that would make me feel better
make the thinking
and the memories
and the almost-crying
and the want-to-dying
stop

or just dig a hole in my chest
both sound good
sounds like comfort.
whichever’s faster, easier
quick, do it, quick!

fortunately
perhaps surviving confers immunity
perhaps having gone through it once
it’s lost some power
lost some effect
you get numb, maybe.
you get bored, maybe.
you think, i’ve seen this before.
I can get out.

fortunately
it’s much less
all consuming now
it’s much less.

fortunately
i feel it coming
but just hovering at the edge
and i battle not to let it in.

i’m never.
going back there.

demons, away!
be gone.

leave me in peace.

Keeping yourself company


The sound of silence;
all there is.
I’m sick of my own company.

The sound of silence
is deafening.
Thoughts and words banging,
bouncing soundlessly
around my skull.
No outlet, no listening ear
to borrow for a while.

Blast the wall of sound.
Pretend it makes you feel better
and maybe it will.

Everything sounds better in a foreign language/
Everything sounds better sung– or screamed.
Everything sounds better with some rhythm.

Distractions, keep yourself distracted.
Keep yourself occupied. With distractions
Just keep moving.
Don’t stop, or you might sink.

That can’t be all there is.
That can’t be it.
Slay me.

Enough.
The silence is deafening.
It starts ringing, after a while.

My words bounce around in my skull.
I’m sick of my own company.

Maybe the secret to happiness
is being able to enjoy one’s own company.