Crumbling The foundations of the house Sunk Lower than the bags under my eyes I hadn’t slept in days She had Of course she had I was the one being punished not her The taps dripped The mould took hold Again We’d survived a move, a death, a pandemic And this fucking city But could we get through this festering rot I’m not sure And not even drink is fixing it these days Nor drugs Legal Or otherwise I’d kill for sleep For decade long solitude Yet no, now I weep For the courage to just end it all But I won’t I promised someone And I’d rather live broken Than die and break an oath
Yer man sat in the background And intended to stay until closin To him the out of league ladies chatting Their shoulders remained staunchly frozen He told tales and complied compliments As creamy as the pints he drank And he’d do it not for any reward He didn’t even want a thanks And he’ll still spin yarns and stories Epics that could ne’er be topped And he will sit, and you’ll hear his wit Until finally, the chill will stop
In the evening I carry her voice with me The siren of my teenage years Her face Hair, my god her hair The scent of a thousand paradise islands Waves that caressed and framed a face Of satin, ivory and the most delicate of freckles Her body, her soul They sing to me in the twilight hours Alone I weep for her In crowds I am lonelier still I dream For to find her herself with me again Would allow me to be free Of this existence Torture, demonic and inhumane. There she is again She sings yet still at dawn Now in the day, before afternoon tea And at night as the lights go out No moments of silence now Even in slumber I see her beauty, her perfectly peaceful And hear her message “Why” She once murmured, now screams “WHY!” And I cannot answer To her Myself The lord Or the judges I suppose some people are just born that way But I’ve found I will see her again Sooner than I could have ever dreamed I will see and feel her body Headless and fair She continues screaming “WHY, Damien?” As I’m led toward The chair
I stared into his eyes Tommy stared past mine We had managed to stem the flow He told me he was feeling fine. We swapped stories of life And of the hills in which he grew I shared some lies of my homeland Just a few We waited for the medic They said 15 minutes for a rank so lowly I told him 5 and that he’d soon be home in Georgia Time had never passed so slowly
The sun was dimmer The streams had no glimmer No hope The leaves were green But turning My heart Broken And yearning It was nearly noon But in my soul It was dark This wasn’t just another walk in the park As I tried to avoid looking at my phone And the doctors who’d be telling me They’d tried their best But now I was Alone
Fuck your inspiration quotes Your side hustles and personal challenges Why? They are set by people With no skill of their own Just Sadists Masquerading as coaches Frauds Who couldn’t complete them Didn’t devise them and Make sure you can never pass them Free yourself and Find your own peace No stranger Can define who you are Those who try? Have already failed their own
We had 30 years to see Paris, my love But it’s prettier in the spring, I hear
To my shame I was much too cowardly To give you the ring you deserved, my dear
And now I long for one last chance To stroll with you along the Seine
But Paris belongs to the past, I fear So let us sing la vie en rose
For the old times
Once
Again
There’s blood on the stair again On the wall too The faint smell of decay and skunk Drifts cutting through the BO and spoiled milk Hidden only by the grace of god And the broken lights They flicker And make reading the missing person sign An impossibility Only 21 Drugs no doubt Or some other dalliance of the young Probably dead The lucky bastard Who needs sons anyway He’s better off wherever he is Away from this spaghetti new build Sheriffless and without hope They used to say old timers Never even carried revolvers In this age I’d forgive them an armoury Maybe it was time to accept he’s gone And go out in a blaze of glory Accomplish more In a fateful last stand Than in the rest of my accursed story
There was no from me response Not even in anger anymore Defeated I cannot even fake sadness I sit staring at my pointless life Work and home are now Nothing but empty shells Of a life imagined And the future is as bleak as the weather I try to avoid And all that is left is this object This 6ft stack of broken promises Devoid of emotion Hope or feeling Or a tomorrow I am the window in which I stare Transparent and broken In a shameful spiral of self pity and decay And it’s only getting worse A walking corpse Frozen in time Awaiting the days end
