realities of war

Depression to you might be a statistic on the news or something you read about in a glossy magazine. You might have a vague understanding of it but it remains conceptual. Well let me tell you to many many people it is very real. Let me be clear, it is intense and devastating. It is yr worst nightmares made real. It is like a swarm of wasps clustered around yr head in frenzy. Depression is me sat in my small room terrified that they are gonna take my benefits away and that i’ll end up on the streets and having to wait ‘four to six weeks’ to find out how fucked I really am. Depression is feeling like my life is spiralling out of my control chaotically at a furious pace and simultaneously somehow collapsing inwards. Depression is me taking benzos and drinking beer and chain smoking joints to blur the edges and make things fuzzy because my thoughts are torture and i’m worried if I don’t get fucked enough to pass out I’ll be up all night watching Al Jazeera News and obsessively contemplating suicide and I can’t fuckin deal with that right now, not again.


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?


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