Eat me, because I’m being swallowed Let me rot, because I don’t want to bloom Endless references to death in everything i do every move i make an attempt to reflect death honing in on me Sleeping till noon, but waking at 3am sweating from nightmares of my own death. the image of driving a […]Read more "Poem: Cliche Psychoanalytical diatribe #18"
Mixing alcohol and paracetamol, isn’t just a good rhyme, it’s usually a sign that shit went south at some point, and trust me it did. I never anticipated revealing my struggles, my shattered mental health to someone would be so hard, let alone to a loved one. Of course it’s after saying it, I realised […]Read more "Ben- ‘it’s Okay, Tell me’ (or new habits die old)"
I just wanted to be Bukowski. it’s three years on, and look at me now; a severe depressive, who doesn’t get out of bed before 12pm, and can barely handle his emotions. Writing has become an afterthought, my own ambition handicapped by my overwhelming sense of futility. I need to stop using my blog in […]Read more "eyes crying? nose running? uterus bleeding? hotel trivago?"
I have a recurring dream which plagues me. At this point in its existence you could consider it a waking dream. Whenever shit goes bad, I find myself in a hotel lobby, bedraggled and hopeless, on what I presume is an unholy cocktail of substances, that keeps me barely lucid and leaves me periodically blacking […]Read more "Mr. Brizell, we’re glad to see you again"
I read a Guardian article not so long ago that branded us the ‘Stitled Generation’ it was a definition that to so many others meant nothing; yet for me, hit me like a cinderblock. With the title still swirling around in my head now. And ironically, I’m meant to be the guy, who doesn’t believe […]Read more "Escaping soullessness"
i’m not out here trying to create art; all I’m trying to do is create something Honest. i am trying to create something that is a reflection of who am i, Where i am and Where the world is (in my eyes). art is just another label, like lesbian, gay and straight (to name a […]Read more "A note (written whilst listening to Frank Ocean’s Blonde)"
Months ago, if you’d have asked, I would have probably said I was happy. Unconventional, yes, but happy nonetheless. Fast forward to today (4/12/17), all of that carefully curated happiness has rotted away. The dream is dead, and hope is a cold corpse. Now it’s just me, a cold room, 7am wake-ups, and a notification-less […]Read more "Untitled (or) Leaving myself"
i’m currently in boxers and a flannel shirt, the sleeves rolled up. My friends are asleep on the couch. the cauldron is empty. halloween was a mess. I’m typing these words on my phone: from binge watching the second season of Stranger things (fairly decent sophomore season) to bumping into girls in short black dresses […]Read more "life’s not cool"
I’m listening to King Krule’s The Ooz (Released today). It’s a masterpiece. Now I’m back to familiar territory romanticising past experiences, thinking about the lost love. The ones who’ve moved on and figured their lives out. This year I met and fell for a girl from Spain. It was a strange, inexplicable romance, that felt […]Read more "Eyes red and raw"
Been up to a lot this year; talked long with an ex(es), family tragedy and fell for someone. Now it’s July, and all that’s faded. Now I’m left listening to Conor Oberst’s Ruminations. Knowing if I’d of stayed responding to her messages I’d of burnt out. Now maybe loneliness is my worst nightmare. Maybe in […]Read more "Her and the subsequent confusion"