Surrounded

A poem from 2018

Sitting amongst rubbish
I feel rubbish
I am rubbish

Boxes full of bad memories
Boxes full of hurt and pain
Boxes full of sins past and present

But I can still raise a smile
This is life and I'm cool with it
There is comfort in misery

The End of the World

A poem from 1995

The world ended a long time ago

I’m waiting for the rest to catch up

Waiting for something interesting to happen

But seriously doubting it will

Just biding my time

twiddling my thumbs

So boring

day in, day out

not much changes

summer’s here and I hate it

autumn will come and that’s okay

winter is a drag

spring is the pleasant time, spoiled only

by the thought of dreadful summer

then before you know it

a year has gone by

and everything’s the same

and the end of the world came a long time ago

and I’m still waiting

and nothing interesting happens

my watch hasn’t stopped

just twiddling my thumbs

So boring

year in, year out

not much changes

some new worries

a bit more hopelessness

summer’s here

and I hate it

Soul Rape

A poem from 1994

Shiny happy people

Inflicting your happiness

upon the world

Oblivious

to those outside your petty private joy

Closing your eyes

to the misery

of the miserable,

you rape their souls

Childhood Dreams

A poem from 1993

A tiny minority of childhood dreams

still attainable

but long-forgotten

broken in the fire of

adolescence and adulthood

the painful process of independence

trapped in the cycle of hatred

of imagined banality

cursing and seething

at the green grass

wanting to escape the fields of my own blood

but seeing no end to the torture and killing

unless this year brings about desired

and undesired change

the solution to all problems is death

Deep

A poem from 1993

Mountain top

I never see you

trapped

in a cave

deeper and I lose my way

crawling

through water

the drowning man

has a better life

Out

How do I find this way?

Deeper and I lose this vision

in the darkness

I hold a hand

but not so tightly

Further

into this sickness

cutting

all links

Lying

to myself

to bring a happiness that eludes me

in rich moments

I belong

in the high places

but I grovel

in the dirt