Category Archives: Poetry

Kind of Like God… but real!


Its mad cause, the other night, I wrote a typical poem,

While you were waiting, to be seen. It was all about my ex,

This was all before it was next level, one minute it was a severe migraine,

The next it was a bleed to the brain, Fuck! They wouldn’t tell us nothing,

Like this patient wasn’t my cousin, like I couldn’t be trusted or something.


Right now, I know shit, you know less.

But your still here, and you best believe I’m there with you.

We all are, I’m not saying, I’m not scared, I’m not saying its going to be easy.

I’m saying, as always, where ever you end up, I’m with you.

Even when you don’t want me, I’m there, kind of like god… but real!


I hate not being able to get through to you,

My silence is only cause, I don’t want to frustrate you.

I’m not ignoring you, although I’m probably boring you.

I’m writing this, still trying to grasp all of this.

We were just at a show last week,

But yesterday I was just pleased you could grasp my hand!


My helplessness helps nothing.

Listen though, from now on it all gets better,

From now on it all stops, and it all starts.

I mean living, I mean really wanting to,

We have to, we need to,

Both of us need to be around for the families.

We have gigs to go to and shit to achieve!

I love you more than you could ever believe.  

I’m Sorry, Really (Poem)


I apologise for not being a fighter, depression is as toxic as my ex lover.

I’m sorry for all this heaviness, I’m sorry for the lack of hope, I swear I’m sorry.

I’m perpetually guilty, Perpetually Angry, I’m not anyone I’d like to be.

I heard, Success has as much to do, with the reaction to failure,

than it has to do with hard work and ability.

Where does that leave me? I’ve lost my work ethic and getting up is too much effort.


Inside I am glass though, so fragile, so sharp, but I only cut myself.

I think about the past, I think about uni, I think about you and me.

That feels like a different life a different me with different plans.

So I apologise for not living up to my own demands.

I should be better than this, I used to be better than this!


I’m sorry to my family, Christmas is so close and I’m so scared.

Down here I can hide, facing you is like facing reality,

Like everyone is building there family, making a future and I just can’t.

I’m sorry to my friends, I go off radar, I go scaling buildings, with my obsessive thoughts. You always show up to talk me down.

I try to put a wall up but you always see through.

I feel as though I can never really thank you,

I feel as though I’m never there for you.


I really do want to get better but I don’t believe I can.

I apologise profusely, for the way I’ve changed,

believe me, this was never the plan.

I’ve lost sight of all sense emotionally,

Somewhere beneath these negative thought patterns and destructive behaviours,

Is a life worth living and a man worth saving, I only hope he’s still reachable.    

I Don’t Want To Be Alive (Poem)



I don’t want to be alive, because I don’t know, what to do with my life,

Evidently it seems, I’m not good enough, at the only thing I’m any good at.

Poetry is therapy, but I want my music to be my profession or at least garner attention.

Yes I want your attention, I want you to like me, teach me to love me.


I don’t want to be alive because everything hurts and I always feel empty.

I don’t want to be alive because I will never have a family.

I don’t want to be alive because I can never feel loved, so I cant be happy.

I don’t want to be alive because I will never have enough control.


I don’t want to be alive because when I go, I’ll be gone and you’ll forget.

I don’t want to be alive because my suicidal ideation has become boring.

I don’t want to be alive because I’ve lost a place to call home.

I don’t want to be alive because I feel like nothing, so I should be nothing.  

The Cycle Continues, The Pattern repeats.


In all honesty, I’m done, in every single way,

Firstly I’m done with this… retard, I know its not nice to say.

There is no other way and you expect me to live this way.

Don’t dare try to act a friend, I play pretend too, lies never end.

Fuck your rules, fuck your procedures, I’m too fucked to try.

Care is the least of my worries,

still seeking a feasible suicide, I’m alive and I don’t know why.


I’m in love with a ghost, been dead, since April made me a fool.

Ever since Swansea, you have lost me, ever since the loss and the cruelty.

Instead of any kind of future, all I see is my past and all I done wrong.

Guard up, hope gone, thoughts become habitual, feelings become scars.

Why live when you have nothing to give, why give if you have no reason to live.

All this talent I supposedly have, yet I feel so unheard, so invalid, so pointless.


Where do I go from here? What do I do with this?

Everything seems to hurt, every day seems to feel worse.

Thought. Trigger. Pain. Distraction. Medication. Sleep.

The cycle continues, The Pattern repeats.

What If This Is It (Poem)


Worth, Value, Cost.

The cost of existing, Feels so high.

I lack the ability to function happily in this society.

I cant really “pay my way”, trained in creation, skilled in feeling.

I compose I produce, I bleed internally, still no-one is hearing me.


My art is everything, I am nothing.

Screaming and crying, don’t you see I’m dying.

Dying to feel worth the space, my brokenness wastes.

What if theres no way out, what if this is it?

I live, I lose, I replay my past self, my past life, while I eternally Fade away


We all know, I’m not okay

I can tell, you lack, the words to say.

I sense that you want me to be over this,

I feel like your, sick of this me, you want the old me back.

Friend I hate to inform you, that I agree.

Yet it seems, he’s dead and your stuck with me, I’m so very sorry

It Would Be Nice (Poem)

It sure would be nice, to feel clean, really clean.

It would be magnificent to feel comfortable, truly comfortable.

It would be amazing to feel anything close to safe, anything close!

It would be something, if I could outwardly emote, properly break down.


This sadness, these obsessions this darkness,

It is heavy, so fucking heavy, still not over my dad dying.

I still don’t know what is real and what is obsession.

I still detest my body and shape, still avoid the sound of my voice.

Still really really love her, still really really hate every part of me.

I try, I really do, I try not to feel empty, I try and at least tolerate myself.

Its not a case of shaking myself, you say that to ease your discomfort.


It would be nice to consider happiness

It would be special to believe in the myth.

It would feel nice and warm to slip away from myself.

It would be something, to feel a part of any one of you.

Black is The Soul (Poem)


It keeps going… like it or not it keeps going.

The internal, the external, this life.

Another poem about how I don’t want to go on.

All this has been going on for so long.

I’ve lost all foundation, I cant seem to move on.


I am broken, only I can fix me,

I am broken and I have nothing left to fix me.

I die, you move on, I die I move on.

Please help me, please forget me, please regret me.


Black is the soul, dark is the whole it seems.

Swallowed by my hole, circling the inescapable void.

Trying, you watch me fall. Dying in front of you all.

All is noise, all is gone from me, life please let me be!

Stay The Night (Poem)


After show come down, late night feelings thing,

Tell me, there is something, worth this inescapable ache.

I feel this every time, it aches worse, every time,

I feel my loneliness, I fear I’m only this, might as well own this.


Tell me, you see beyond the obvious, tell me I don’t have to be hopeless.

Say you will someday want me, don’t you dare ever feel sorry for me.

Tell me, that I don’t always have to feel so lonely,

Come to me, say I am worth the fight, tell me you will stay the night!


Tell me, its going to be okay, say I have a reason to live.

Make me remember the old me, I’m trying and I want you to see.

Untie this invisible rope, she tied for me, eclipse the hurt, reverse the trauma.

Hold my hand, heal these scars, erase my bitterness, fill my emptiness.


Do You Feel Dead Enough Yet? (Poem)


Follow me, feel a piece of me.

Come to this ugly space, save me from my empty place.

I live with ghosts and monsters, I burn through the positives.

I wrestle in my night terrors, I wake up a void. I struggle and avoid.

Loveless and bottomless, ultimately, ready to quit, a feeling, a thought.


My gut says, lets try, my brain says no, my heart asks why haven’t we died!

Predictable, repetitive, motionless, spineless. Disgusted and dejected.

I’m strung up in these shackles, this illness, this disability, this messed up mentality.

If found, please love me, please kill me. They both feel alike, both destroy.


I just wrote something out of my nothingness,

An attempt to calibrate the distortions.

A reach for substance within my emptiness.

Do you feel dead enough yet? Do I get to feel alive yet?


End Everything

I’m fading again, I’m still falling.

I crawl back to you, your Facebook page.

I did so well to avoid this for months.

With sadness, comes the flood and the empty.

Inside voices, screaming, I am nothing, I should end me!


New people, same me, New day, same anxiety.

Face facts, this is it, face facts, lets end all of this.

End everything, end everything, just end everything,

I don’t want to be anything, independent, failure, nothing.

From a place where, no one is really anyone, look who I am


This is torture, to be forced to live.

To be forced to fade away,

To be forced to feel it all,

To do nothing but watch your own downfall