To Those Who Try To Help

To those who try to help,

Those who continue to believe in me.

I’m sorry.

The path I take, I try to make.

The doors closing on me,

A lost cause.

A hopeless mess,

When I’ve come so far.

All thrown back into my face.

As I try to make my way.

The path I try to plot, to escape the darkness of uncertainty.

I’m sorry.

The path is lost,

The bearings lost too.

Left adrift.

Left losing the will.

Left with loss,

Loss of all, of mind, will and soul.

To those who try to help,

My gratitude is yours,

But I am left adrift at sea,

Drowning in uncertainty.

Without a place to turn.

The mind cannibalising itself,

Worries manifesting,

Uncertainty growing.

I’m sorry.

To all those who try to help.

I’m lost.

And I’m sorry.

Awake I Lie

Awake I lie,

Thoughts racing,

Trouble brewing.

The uncertain future.

Perseverance to clear a path,

Draining my life through this troubled storm.

The turbulent seas,

Uncertain paths without any horizon.

Chatting a path through the darkness.

Left without a heading.

Attempt after attempt.

Storms keep bashing my direction into darkness.

Awake a lie,

Thinking of the troubles to come,

Looking for a heading.

Looking for an option.

For a way out.

All direction and certainty lost to the depths.

Lost to the darkness,

The horizon unseen.

Awake I lie,

Pondering these questions,

Without direction.

Without heading.

Looking into the darkness and uncertainty.

Taking a step at a time.

Without heading, without knowing.

Hoping, persevering, to find my way.

To find a path.

All, as I lie awake.

The Path

The path, journey,

The ups and downs,

And on it goes, through this path,

A on-going gradual path,

Into the sunlight,

Into night.

Into life.

The path walked,

Many times, and never simultaneously.

The times shared, the sun felt.

The sound of the guitar in the backdrop.

The sun setting on the horizon,

To be followed by night, then day.

The ongoing times, of sun and bright feelings.

The need to remember, the need to hold on.

An emotional rollercoaster,

Of ecstasy and emptiness.

The times gone through.

The experiences felt.

The sun shining down on the ground.

On the warm face,

The light.

The happiness and sadness.

Both at one.

Together in feeling.

Both making us human.

This is the ongoing path.

The confusion and doubt, with the aftertaste of faith.

The need for meaning,

The meaning behind being.

The grace of living, loving, being and making use of the finite time.

The time to be spent,



That path taken. That path of life.

The path we all walk.

The path.
Written reflecting on the book ‘Stoner’ by John Williams

Fading Away Gradually

Fading away gradually,

Slipping into nothingness,

A drifting away of consciousness,
Loss of words, thoughts, actions.

Waiting with my memories,
Swirling around from within my head,
A tornado of knives.
Spinning, piercing and cutting.
Spilling all of me, out across the floor.

The cold floor,
The distorted mind,
Blurred eyes,
Every sound intensified, before, blurring.

I fade away, with nothing left,
But the torture of my memories, the remembering.

The questions,
Of what there is to keep,
What there is to do.

Asking myself,
What is there?

Like there is no other option.

The path I was meant to take,
Always was going to take,
Always was directed to taking.

Trying to divert my mind and actions,
But ever-closer towards the inevitable path I go,
Ever-closer to the end of time.
Ever-closer, to my close.

Breathing, while watching this occur,
The mind playing a movie of your life,
A movie of the gradual fading.
The slipping away.

As I fade away gradually.

Rather Not

Would rather not.

Rather not remember or know,

Trying to build a facade, to cope, to forget.

To erase from my mind the pain.

To get rid of the feeling, the memories.

To erase a pain, still so raw.

A pain ever-present,
Only merely tucked away,
Only merely hidden and put out of mind.
Only left,
A festering wound,
A corrupting influence.

Ripping into my mind,
Into my soul,
Hurting and pained.

The drops by my side.

The pain and the flinching.

Left out, in the open,


Dying in the open field.

Left. Lying, wounded. Dying.

I would rather not.

A world of keys, codes, my mind and torture.
Another day in the life of my mind.

Another day, waiting, for it to end.

To forget, so I can live.

To erase my mind,
To go on.

I would rather not.

Rather not remember.
Rather not be reminded.
Rather not be hurt.

Claim It All

Claim it all,

The day, along with the darkness of night.

The times once past.

The times gone cold.

The thoughts and the darkness.

Mine to claim, make my own.

To claim it all in the swirling tornado.

As the day shines,
The night coming.
The darkness looming clear.

Thrown off,
Thrown out.
To be made out and found.

As time numbing living makes clear.
The time freezes.
The temperature goes cold.
The night sky lights bright.

Left in a world gone cold,
Gone fake and empty.
Claiming it all,
My piece, my home.

Waiting. Watching. Thinking.

Listening as the birdsong fades.
The feeling sapped,
The questions rage.
The questions of life.

Left thinking.
Claiming them as my own.
My own.

The endless existence.
The wondering.
The night comes.
The emptiness looms,
With no path. No answer.

I claim it all.

As it claims me.

Not Worth The Pain

Not worth this pain,

The feeling,

Kindness and care,

The disregarded looks and selfish means,

The oblivious attitude,

And the devious motives.

Behind the backs,

Left in confusion,

At what is real, meant, or said.

Feeling, caring,

Not worth the pain, yet also is.

For the mere smile of a friend.

Can turn your mood and life around.

Bringing to light, what only saw darkness.

Is it worth the pain?

Even for rare. Yet ecstatic happiness?

Life and Poetry

Just a small blog, contemplating poetry how I see it, how I write it, how it adds to me and how I add to it.

It is a process heavily influenced by life, and it influences my life, an outlet for all sorts of feelings, an immortalisation of feelings. Commemoration of feelings.

I find myself writing poetry regularly, as things do occur in my life and it is a great way to reflect, a great way to think, a great way to relax and ponder, a creative process that is welcome with the stresses of life.

I find myself in a situation, good, bad or any combination or other circumstance, and if I feel the need, poetry offers reflection, offers a crucial and also a link. This link between life, experiences and creative expression through poetry I cannot even comprehend.

Just a small blog about the influence of poetry on my life, how it works for me, I would love to hear anyone else on their experiences of poetry on their life.

It is amazing, it is complex, it is interesting, the formulation of ideas from experiences, the construction of expression along with the inherent biases and cumulative experiences onto a creative form.

A form that can also help others, relate to others, form connections with others and provide another level of fulfillment to my life.

Trying to Forge Protections Among the Storm

Trying to forge protections among the storm.

My crush, the person I’ve loved since November 2015. Knew they liked someone else a while back, we stopped talking, we’ve talking recently since March. My feelings grew again, despite my trying to kill them, having tried to kill them before. Had a picnic with her and the guy.

They both are close, I am not against that. I just cannot go on like this. Even before we started talking I thought we needed to be separated further and I’ve seen her almost every day since March, even late night calls, many, if not all of my recent poems are about her, thinking of her, or about me thinking of her. The poems that started this blog were of her too.

I know we’ll need to drift apart, have been waiting, not wanting, but knowing it’ll be needed. It’s her birthday this Wednesday. Will wait till then and have to cut contact. I don’t want to hurt her on a day of celebrations.

Don’t want to, I have no bad feelings, it’ll end on better terms this time than before I think. I cannot continue. The pain, the mirage of feelings, the inspiration to my poem Mirage.

I talk about the hierarchy of lies, that you cannot tell, between real and truth, between one lie and another. Looking at all the details for hints she cares, looking for hints of anything going on, hints to see if it’s getting bad. Lies to say it’s amazing (I say ‘lies’, but I cannot tell them from truth anymore).

There is no truth, only a web of lies that I pull to convince myself I can make the next day, a day at a time. Not going to lie, it’s my state of mind now, I have been better recently, but better because of the ‘lie’ I probably am telling myself, but living like this, it’s like dragging yourself through a sea of razors, it all hurts and there is no point, but you do so as that’s what you know, that’s what others want to see (you being okay).

But. As always. I shall keep dragging myself through that sea until I can’t go no more.


This is what I got my crush for a present. Fox Necklace, the reasons behind the fox? We met and she was doing an animation about a fox, and I still remember the animations, what it looked like, the times chatting. I got her a fox present, some small notebooks and stuff that I saw over Christmas 2015 and reminded me of her, and been meaning to get her something like this since April 2016, but we had lost contact by then.

Those Dark Questions We Don’t Ask

Those dark questions we don’t ask,

We avoid,

Hiding from the dark,

The demons we wished we had not known.

Turning away when the question stares.

Running away before the question follows.

There is no escape as the question goes, wherever you go.

The question makes the world you know.

That dark question.


It knows all.

Sees all.

Waits for you.

Always waiting.

For that answer you promised.

There is always a time.

That question needs an answer.

Before the end.