Musings, Dreams and Prose

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Why can’t we not be sober?

And then she stopped the alcohol abuse and stopped feeling like a monster.

She worked hard without getting sick.

She talked to people without treading on toes

She looked at life without getting sucked into quicksand and could see the horizon

Alcohol abuse is a nasty lecher.

long live the king

But I promised I wouldn’t, so I won’t. It’s just a hypothetical.

Last night I dreamed Mechonan died. And as the war noises got closer and I could hear the hounds barking, my cousin asked me why I wasn’t sad. I told her I couldn’t be sad otherwise I’d break. The air was filling with mustard gas and we were running out of room.

Then I broke and caterwauling arched in agony, my mind disassociated and I slipped back into my childhood.

A primary school play of the sword in the stone. As the play unfolded toy props magically became real. A plastic sword changed before my eyes becoming steel.and the figure playing Arthur said he only wanted to act, he wasn’t prepared to be a real king. Which is how we all knew he was the rightful reincarnation, and we all cheered and hailed the new King Arthur of my childhood dream.

Saturn Ascends

apreaching 30 is like, everyone I meet is living my lost dreams, whilst I’m still counting sheep.

The beat, the beat, the beat.

Approaching 30 is like a pocket full of posie, childhood dreams through myopic lenses and the pressure of who I should be.

Oh that I want, I demand, and it shall be mine!

Should have been mine

will it ever be mine?

inhebriation  envokes thoughts of suicide, and everything that I’ve ever lost.

Oh. I. Have. Lost.

Ive lost.

Ive lost.

Ive  lost.

Suicide? Drugs? Limbo?

What would you choose?

 

 

 

Anti depressants.

The name says it all

This one’s for my family

How do you explain to an addict that your love for them is as big as their love for their gear? When it’s probably not?
I’m envious of their love.
And I wish mine was bigger.
I wish it meant enough.

To accept the impending deaths. Is near impossible.

But.

Inevitable.

How I wish it wasn’t so

The Meeting Place

Last night I heard the screaming,

Loud voices behind the wall.

My mouth stretched wide in anguish

Making no sound at all

 

The sights I saw whilst dreaming

Showed me the depths from which I have crawled

The ghosts in the closet were out to greet me

Their shadows were big, and my life was small

 

Last night I was screaming

A panicked prayer for them to go away

I was lost and scared and pleading

Surrounded by death, delusion, and decay

 

A familiar voice whispers closely to me

Somewhere in this nightmare, I am met half way

In-between life and death, I am embraced dearly

By a brother who could not stay

 

I hold so tight for a love I’ve missed so fiercely

For soon this precious moment will fade

With his arms wrapped around me I am whole

Everything I have ever lost, has been re-paid

 

He tells me not to hold so tightly

For his ribcage is still crumpled and concaved

His bones shift where I rest my head

A reminder of the train that took him away.

 

 

Last night I heard whilst dreaming

The message they came to convey

I am from the land of the living

And I mustn’t let limbo lead me astray

 

 

 

Am I a stereotype?