Solo

I am an awkward chord progression

Hanging in the air

That everyone wishes would end

It’s not a problem

I tell myself

With a diagnosis at hand

The solo comes

I’m in the spotlight

I try to find my note

My special note

Up and down the guitar fretboard

I can’t find it anywhere

So I let myself swing back and forth

With the noose around my neck

Legs swaying in colourful mist

In front of the audience

Clapping without caring

 

Suicidal Fantasy

I grab a chair from the kitchen

Moving it to the centre of the room

Where a noose hangs from the ceiling

I learnt the hangman’s knot

From the scouts

One of the only things I could do right

 

I stood up on the chair

And looked around my living room

So dark, so empty

There’s no substance

Empty pots, dirty plates

There’s no living here

The window shows me

The bleak landcsape of the moors

Lifeless, dead trees

Grey skies

Carcasses of sheep

 

I look through the noose

 

A land of sharp, green grass

Vibrant, powerful colours

Flowers of the rainbow

Pure white skies

Bustling wildlife, birds of paradise

Singing sweet songs of euphoria

 

I kick the chair

 

My neck doesn’t break

 

So I guess I’ll just have to wait

The two worlds merge together

Like broken clips of film

Till I’ve lost all distinction between the two

Out of focus, blurry

The pixels dislodge and fly off

In all directions

Losing colour as they fizzle out

Fading into a harmonious white

My body breaks up

Melting into the white fabric

I see bits of memory float away

Dreams, reality, nothing..

 

Last Ditch Attempt

A prison holds me

Not a small cell

With bars, locks or keys

But a body

Made of weak flesh

That locks me in

 

I’ve tried to escape

Numerous times

Through pills, drinks

Women and music

Books

 

But it does nothing

So in a last attempt

I raise a hammer to my forehead

Repeatadly cracking open my skull

Hit by a Train

I’m so lonely

It bites at me like a dog, gnawing at my

Bones

Threatening to take me

Piece by piece

My soul needs to touch hers

I need to be grounded

I want to float

But she is my paper weight

The one that shows me reason

When what I want is madness

 

My obsessions get worse

But my affections grow stronger

I gently think

Then I’m hit by a train

God is the driver

She jumps in front of me

To save me

We’re both goners

Inspiration in the eyes of many

He rushes over the wall

Into the woodlands

Fully dressed in his rehab atire

Sunglasses masking his face

His chains still attached

 

His mind is only set on the

Pain

The attachment

The addiction

The deep, black, gaping hole that is

ever growing

Punching out all thoughts of optimism

 

His daughter, forgotten

His wife’s words stinging his mind

His friends, against him

His mum, ashamed

The thorns provoking his clammy white skin

Are no where near as painful as this

Tearing off chunks

Of what is left

Of his skinny frame

 

He is there

At the end

A garden shack

 

A heroin kit with his name on it

Followed by a shotgun, straight from above

His favourite cigerettes lie on the table

It’s as if an angel has bestowed gifts

In order to ease his passing

 

He smoked his last drag

in order to calm his mind

Cooked his heroin

Injected

 

 

Floated… Floating…

To the caves…

 

Full of sounds and smells…

So many kinds of smells…

Far away from people….

 

His subconscious slowly, gently lifted the shotgun

To the back of his mouth

Thoughts drifting like clouds

Time slowing down

Dribbling on the barrel

He pulled the trigger

 

 

Floating….

 

Far away from-uh p-people…

 

To-uh a cave-er full-oh of so…sou-und…smells…