mad and mad

I fit with the wrong ones

all meshed up and scissored

complex locking gears

of neuroses

we set off improvised

explosive devices

by the roads of each

others’ existence

it is like an intricate

watch mechanism

so unlikely, so ‘designed’

as if written by a mad author

we will

both die

eventually

of course

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hate

I want you to care but you don’t

I’m disinterested but yr obsessed

they say people will only love you

if you first love yrself

well I fucking hate myself

so how is that gonna work?

Self-criticism is my enemy

but I am a a mess of a human

I don’t think the world would be

better off without me, no way

I think that perhaps I would be

better off without the world though

not proud

there is a darkness inside of me and its followed me half way around the world

I use anything at hand to keep it temporarily at bay and between us that means

alcohol, cigarettes, weed, benzos, codeine solution, cough syrup, cocaine, speed

psilocybe mushrooms, acid, methamphetamine, opium, basically ANYTHING

 

I just want to smoke, drink, take drugs and die

because I can’t see any other sensible way out

nothingness, just fucking nothing, nothingness

decline into the tragic squallor that is on the horizon

drugs are the only thing that makes life bearable

either the branded ones in fancy packages

that the doctors give to me every month

or the shifty man supermarket carpark ones

 

I feel that my life is going to be characterised

by an inevitable decline through heavy drug use

towards an early tragic death

and I promise you it won’t be sad

because I hate being alive

does that make any sense?

bench

I went to the bench where you used to meet me

and I waited there in the rain for an hour but you never came

I wanted a sign; a flickering streetlamp, a shooting star

but there was nothing, why didn’t you meet me by that bench

one

last

fucking

time

KING LEAR

you’d open yr eyes and find yrself in court, jail or the gutter
you’d open yr eyes and find yrself in someone else’s house
you’d open yr eyes and find yrself in someone else’s arms
you’d open yr eyes and find yrself sliding through stars
you’d open yr eyes and find yrself at foreign bus station
you’d open yr eyes and find yrself tripping at ascot
you’d open yr eyes and find yrself flailing fists
you’d open yr eyes and find yrself yelling ‘fuck it fuck it fuck it!’

but you always found yr balance
until now

next time you open yr eyes I hope you find
glory glory glory
you were weaker than you let on
you were stronger than we knew
you had a hard, pure core
you looked great in a suit
you saw more blood and guts than I would wish on any man
you didn’t tolerate shit from anyone least of all yrself
you were an unreasonable drunk and a clumsy brawler
you plotted yr own path w/ deceptive certainty

despite the brandy
and the powder
despite the gee gees
you were better than the rest
above it all you were a bastard
and a friend

I’m sure you’d hate this poem
and that is why I wrote it

maybe you truly had to do it
but i’m sorry yr gone
brother