Mussings and the like

The more I question why this is a good idea, the more I slip into the mindset that it is. Somewhat a numbing constant drone of past discrepancies that are replaying constantly in my guilt and mold infested sense of which the fuck am I? What the fuck have I done? Maybe I am just constantly attention seeking, maybe all I wanted was attention, if that would have sorted it out, Why the fuck did I ever trust myself to tell people how I really felt? And what could they have done anyway? Made me feel as if it was ok to be in pieces, accept me for who I was, even I can’t do that, if I can’t forgive myself- how can they? I have screwed with far too many people to have any to turn too. I want to rip it all out, rip out my brain, and not have to think. Cause its all that’s on my mind. My secrets and my regrets, my constant wants to say goodbye so I won’t have too next time. My want to spend every second sharing my life with someone who can live with the fact that I don’t get anything anymore. They don’t click and my mind can’t make sense of the world.

 

I have lost the empathy that I once cared more about more then anything. I was given every chance to ask for help, but all I did was sit there and toy with the idea in my mind. I could have had the world, could have had anything if I just put effort into it. But im just tired this time and there’s no one left to carry me over the water. I should have asked you when you were there, and not just pretended to listen and get better; leaving me with this pain just behind my eyes that’s worse then any physical pain I have ever had. I can’t drift back into my head anymore, my imagination is polluted with false hopes and distant memories of actual happiness, not manic energy that is portrayed as happiness and the knowing that im going to fall head over heals into this pit of utter despair, where nothing will go right, where every second is a second too long. And all that’s left is to say fuck you to every person who told me I wasn’t worth it- that I didn’t care, that i did it only for me because I wish I had. Because I didn’t do it for me, I did it too prove I could, then once that had happened- There was no need anymore. Im pathetic, I most likely won’t even go through with it, I can’t even decide to end it and stick to it. But I cant go on like this, going to get qualifications that I wouldn’t know where to go with. Another waste, all gone to pot, im my own worst enemy. Im sick of feeling this way, im suffocating. What the fuck is wrong with me? I don’t even want to know.

 

Iv had more chances then anyone, more support then anyone, and im just basically giving them all the finger, and im sorry about that. I actually am sorry. Im sorry for every last time I made you question yourself, because none of you are at fault here, remember that, not one other person. It was me.

 

All the love that is left to give

 

Adam

x

Another history lesson is dwindling in monotony; so the decision was made to remove my head from the past and place it in the present. The classroom is a brimming with thin murmur the pale pink walls are decorated with many idols that have died at the hands of there own weaknesses or tragic circumstances. The sullen look of a teacher is being decoded as we speak- perhaps she is contemplating her life and not truly thinking of the suffragette movement. One can pray.

A silence falls across the merry hills

A sound of whisper, slowly becomes louder

Until a scream of quite; shouts of hush

Become obvious, louder and louder

Until object is defeated, and the merriment

It starts again

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

First Words

 

Can I go back to the way it was before?

Change my mind

Or am I a hostage, a prisoner of war?

Just being left behind

They say that there is an art

To living the a la carte

Behind the bike sheds

Am I designed to fall inside?

And be washed away by a tide?

 

My heart did bleed?

When you preceded

 To supersede my point of view

And follow through

Even when the payments are overdue

Can you forgive me?

And outlive me

And tell the tale

 

You came to me

In a flash of artistic imagery

Like a sudden epiphany

That would let me go

But I know I can go back

And say goodbye

Or give it one more try

To stay up high

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I once knew a boy

 

I once new a boy

He knew of love and joy,

Whose ambition and intuition

Was to create and not too destroy.

 

That boy became a man,

Who knew of misery and hate?

Whose highs and lies

Was to destroy and eventually incriminate.

 

Although the two shared the same shell

One was destined to be destroy and one to excel

And leave the barren wastelands behind

To break the mold and save mankind.

 

But to himself he was pure evil

Who derogatory comments caused an upheaval

To a land of poppy’s, where he feels no pain

 And can ignore the suffering, and dodge all blame

 

That man was a brother and he was son

Whose only obsession was becoming numb

He left his love ones in the dark

And betrayed them with painful and snide remarks

 

I lost that brother, that son, that friend

Whose actions I eventually couldn’t reason with nor defend

Whose eyes lost there sparkle, the hope and the light

Whose dreams were just that, they banished to the night.

 

I lost a person; he was dear to my heart

Whose passion for life, is now a lost art

Who’s face I recognize, but his soul I cannot place

Because he put it down somewhere, and it vanished without a trace.

 

I once new a boy, who new how to feel

I now know a man, whose wounds refuse to heal

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Trenches

 

It blinded my senses, i lit a spark
my burning embers illuminated the dull, drab dark
cold empty spaces and gaunt grey faces
a silence so loud you can hear its noise
we are just soldiers, we are just boys

In the mud of the trenches, built deep inside
the blood endued my slow mental demise
insanity with bangs and clangs and screams
from the bullets above, like swarming bees

What fight for freedom, enslaves the mass
with lying and crying and medias harass
with simple soldier boys who should be tucked up in bed
but lie in the trenches with a bullet in there head

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Spit and spat

 

Spit and spat

As I walked through the stars

Lonely away

Far; far away, in the dark

Spinning out of control

Out of this world in the sank

And the dark

Lonely dark

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Stepping Stones

 

It’s along walk to far away,

 Over rivers and lakes until the sun start’s to fade

A bridge here and stepping stones there

 Sometimes you have to jump, or walk through the air

“Too far” was the call,

 It was dark and dull

 And I was trying to walk back once and for all

But I was drawn into the view, hypnotized

And blinded by your lustrous eyes

 

With a calloused look you can drive away

But with a simple smile you can lead me astray

To a place so a’rebours, in unity and course

I try and hide away,

So to melt into the last seconds of this day

 

Who am I to laugh and sneer?

I walk into the woods of life free of fear

I do not judge or preconceive

My own view of the world, even if it is naïve

I like to see it through my own eyes

Its easier to love and to be surprised

By the subtle patterns most overlook

As child’s play, 

That’s better suited to a storybook

                                             

What are we but grains of sand?

Waiting in a Queue with cash in hand

To buy that which the mind desires

But overlooking what the soul requires

Can we be free from that which we crave?

Although we overlook the beauties of the waves.

When will we wake up and see what we own

And take the trip over those last stepping stones

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Breath

 

When will I speak and sound leave my lips

Although I can never form the vowels to push

With simple breath, to make noise.

 The effort is there

And lie and try and try again

To make a sound, a sound my friend

That I can make more sense

Of this world, this is impregnated:

With wisdom that is not wise

And stories untold, never to hear the message

However bold or italic in form

Not to be influenced by rules or norm

A libertine at heart and in soul

I trawl the land however frostbitten and cold

My projection I make, to another plain

Im stuck on this world, and im still to blame

This post is password protected. To view it please enter your password below:

Password:

Euphoric people

Grasp neither the joy nor the pain

For they are numb, the experiences are the same.

Repetitive, blinding and binding forever

Neither negligent, doltish not even clever

They are dead inside for once and ever.

Contiuing on the old england, (Oh what a wonderfull land) plinth i have decided i live in the greatest land in the world, eccept for my mother who is dead to me and my brother who died long ago and was replaced by the smack head of a soul,to be fair it makes me sick that i am even related to them.

I rearly am enraged by the lies that my mother spreads…. well shes dead to me.

I am fucked off with the shite i had to put up from my junkie brother… hes dead.

Anyway….

all the best

Adam

Meh… bored msn….. going to fail mocks…… bugalloo

Here it is for your erriey pleaseure

thought i might write here as im neglecting it a bit….

im feeling a lot better then i was in my last post, infact i must have been feeling so shite!

This is my day1 of clean adam…. i hope he lasts

Love you all

a

x

My fucking depression has hit an all time, I don’t know what to do with myself. Iv started using again which is terrible as so many people were/are so happy at my recovery. Iv started writing again- its all down hill. I really want to sort my life out but I don’t have the incentive or energy anymore. Im not riding the pompous clean train that you see at NA meetings and that shit,  I don’t want to pass on my recovery to someone ells, its my fault so I should deal with it. All NA members seem to be living in a world of stupidity between two worlds, the high life and clean life.

 

I wanted to be a junkie, I wanted to be a fucking rock star it came with the territory. Now im just a wannabe poet/ Pete Doherty who writes shitty anthologies based on my romanticised view of opium and the dreams of crack cocaine.

 

Offloaded that shite……

 

A

 

x