NaPoWriMo: The dysphoria of twos

I’ve got some new boots
what does that mean for my other pair
it doesn’t seem fair
can both exist at the same time
or does one erase the other?
If I close my eyes does one pair stay
and the other disappear?
what if I wore odd boots, one from each pair?
will I look a mug, when I got out there?
if I keep them both in my sight
they’ll both exist and that will be okay, right?
unless one is my Monday pair
and the other is my Tuesday pair?
But does that mean I need to buy another fucking pair?
And then another, then another?
One for each day, so that none are left behind?
What a fucking bind!
I’ll keep the one pair, if you don’t mind.

NaPoWriMo: Smile, no frown

Hello fellow weirdos
I tried to be a storage of calm
but it seems I’m too wired for that
so you’ll have to take me as I am
restlessly still
my face don’t always translate what I feel
Perhaps the storm doesn’t cross my face
or maybe it does
I never know what expression it pulls
I tried pulling strings through my lips
so I could control them like puppets
‘Smile, no frown’
I tried to sew puppet string to my eyes
to express my confusion or lack thereof

The dying field mouse

A dying field mouse was the catalyst
For the tears turning to diamonds
Under the pressure of unrelease
An apologetic surrendering
To my failure to be a hero
My humanity drifting me apart
A wedge between me and my kind
A bridge I can’t cross
To look you in the eyes
And become a part of the rat race
I despise
That mouses black beady eyes
The abyss I looked into
Forever looking back

I am sorry little mouse

I couldn’t bring you peace

in your darkest hours

as you bid your long arduous goodbye.

The Frankensteins

Meredith sat in her rocking chair by the fire, without looking up from her knitting she said, ‘I wish you’d stop rolling your eyes at me!’

‘Well if you would talk sense I wouldn’t need to’ Alfie remarked.

Stopping her knitting for a second she reached under the chair and pulled out one of his eyes, ‘I’m tired of finding them all over our wonderful house!’

‘I’ve been looking for that eye!’ he replied.

‘Well if you’d mind them better you wouldn’t lose them would you?’ she lifted her head toward the direction Alfie’s voice was coming from, her eye sockets empty.

Patting her knitting on her knee she began, ‘now then, when are we going to the body shop, like we said we would?’

‘I’m waiting for you to go now! I’m all ready!’ Alfie said dripping with impatience.

‘I wish you’d calm yourself down!’

‘Wish you’d bloody hurry up! Now come on! Chop, chop!’ He clapped his hands together and turned to the mirror over the mantelpiece. Pulling some fluff from the eyeball Meredith had previously found under her chair he plopped it in his right socket.

‘You’re going with odd eyes in aren’t you?’

‘I might be!’ Alfie said.

‘It’s always odd eyes and odd socks with you!’

The body shop had a sale on everything, a sign in front of a shelf full of boots and shoes read, ‘buy a pair of boots and get one soul free.’

‘Look, Mer!’ Alfie lit up like a child in a sweet shop, ‘they have buy one get one free on all colours of eyes!’

‘You’ve enough eyes at home!’ Meredith scowled and plopped two golden eyes in her sockets from her handbag, then took out a pair of big jam jar like glasses. The glasses enlarged her golden eyes as she bent down and looked towards the shoes and boots.

‘I could do with some new boots!’ Meredith started, turning to a woman who worked in the shop, ‘do we know whose soul we’ll get?’

The woman shook her head, ‘No, you get whatever soul comes with the boots.’

‘That’s a shame’ Meredith tutted to herself, ‘What do you think, Alfred?’

‘I think you need to stop calling me Alfred in public! You know I don’t like it!’

‘No about the boots!’ Meredith said ignoring his plea.

‘You have a right boot at home, get a left one.’

‘But if I only buy one boot, I shall not get the soul!’

‘You’ve got your own!’ Alfie laughed.

‘I like to wear someone else’s essence every now and then!’

‘You know they’re not anyone else’s soul right, Mer? They’re manufactured!’

‘Well, anyway,’ Meredith bunched up her hair, ‘I like to wear the essence of another soul every now and then!’

‘Just get the right one. It’s not like you can choose what soul you get! What if you get a piss poor one, full of vulgar language?

‘I suppose you’re right, Alfred.’

‘Pardon me,’ Alfie started with a big grin, ‘I’m…I’m right for once? Well, that’s a bloody first!’

‘You won’t be right for long, carry on with that attitude!’ She said slapping with him her handbag.

Some teenagers were prowling outside the shop like a pride of young lions.

‘Hey,’ one of the lads hollered, ‘Look ‘ere we got some Frankies!’

The other kids laughed.

Alfie sighed and muttered under his breath, ‘like a pack of hyenas, they are!’

‘Come on Alfred, we’re going home!’ Meredith pulled at his arm, going pale all over, stumbling and mumbling as she put her glasses back in her bag, ‘I don’t want to see such folly!’ She proclaimed dramatically and took her eyeballs out.

‘Ignore them!’ Alfie told her, his eyes having caught a top-shelf he could just about reach, ‘They’ve got some top of the line penises on sale!’

‘Yes, well,’ Meredith said as she fiddled about blindly trying to fasten up her handbag, ‘I’ve got a bog-standard vagina so you don’t need one of them fancy things!’

Hurriedly she shrugged her way out of the shop

‘Fuckin’ Frankies! Rich cunts!’

‘If we were Frankies me nanna would be alive!’ one of the teens shouted.

‘yea! And me sister is on a waiting list for 100 years on the NHS,  She won’t even live that fucking long! meanwhile you Frankies just go to the fucking body shop! Fucking rich bastards!’

‘FRANNNKIIIIIEEES’ they all shouted.

Alfie followed swiftly behind Meredith, overtaking her, his face red with rage till Meredith suddenly stopped and cried, ‘They’ve taken my bag! And snatched off with my arm too!’

Alfie spun on his heels, ‘Come here you little thieving rats!’ his eyes bulged out of his head, ‘Get back here you little rats,’ he repeated.

But the kids were too fast as they emptied her handbag leaving a trail behind them.

Alfie took off his left arm and threw it at them.

‘That’s an assault that!’ one of the kids yelled.

‘I’ve got a right to bear arms when you’ve stolen our property!’

The kids laughed and dropped her handbag along with Meredith’s right arm.

‘Stolen property?’ one of the older kids couldn’t resist shouting back sarcastically before turning a corner, ‘You rich cunts own everything!’ he could be heard shouting as he was lost to their sights.

‘Quick, quick,’ Meredith uttered, ‘collect everything up,’ she blushed a bluey colour that only the living dead could, as people rushed and gave them a wide berth on their way to their many errands.

The men who ate themselves

The world was smothered in white, a trees gnarly limbs pointed to the sky in accusation with curled fingers.
‘I can’t breathe out here,’ I reported.
‘Get back!’ Mack’s voice came through the static.
‘I can’t,’ I told him, ‘I can’t,’
‘You’re gonna die out there!’
My footsteps trailed behind me, I wanted so bad to cover each up, cover my tracks, ‘Soldier down,’ I said breathlessly.
‘Flint, If you don’t get back here now I’m gonna kick your fucking arse!’
‘soldier….down…’ I gasped.
‘Flint you fucker! We’re right here! Just walk back. Crawl back. Do anything and get back here, right fucking now! Don’t make me come out there!’
‘Mack, I’ve seen it.’ I fell to my knees, ‘I’ve…’ between each breath I uttered my words through gritted teeth, ‘seen it, Mack,’ a gush of wind blew the snow in circles around me. ‘He ate himself, Mack,’ a tear ran down my cheek, froze solid on its way down.
‘Flint, You cared too much. But it’s over, you need to let go.’
‘I can’t,’ I fell headfirst into the snow-covered ground. ‘I’m so tired Mack, I’m so tired of caring. The anger, the pain…’
‘Flint, if you let go you can get back! Let go!’
‘I can’t Mack. He’s a husk, a ghost. I never believed in ghosts but now I know they’re real.’
‘Right, that’s it!’
‘Don’t come out here!’ I screamed into the static, ‘Don’t come out here!’
Ghosts aren’t what you think they are, they aren’t the spirit of the dead they’re sadder than that. They’re living people who are helpless not because no one can help them, but because they won’t accept the help.
‘He ate himself, Mack,’ I cried into the void.

The snow slushed underneath me, my body leaving a trail covering up the footprints of the man dragging me.
‘You need to get out of his headspace,’ Mack was droning on, ‘he’s got you caged in his head.’ He paused and bent over winded trying to take a breath. ‘It’s an illusion, Flint,’ He coughed, ‘he got into your head and projected his own. you’re in his headspace inside your own headspace. You can let it go.’
I sat up and opened my eyes dazed and confused, he shut the door and switched the oxygen on, sat down next to me to get his breath back.
‘You don’t have to care all the time, Flint.’
But I knew I would. And I knew it would hurt and I was angry he saved my life.

I saw a man eat himself like the way the critters eat my mind. He ate me too, and now the critters in our heads eat us and we eat us and we’re all just consumed.

Films and books with emotionally numb characters

I’ve seen a fair few films that all merge into one big reel so I can’t really go through film titles. And I’ve read a fair few books with this kind of narrative too.

The main character is relatable with their grumpiness (at least to me) they’re emotionally closed off, numb often depressed characters who push the other characters away…

One thing they all have in common is that they end with this:

The character realises they want to live and that they are learning to ‘enjoy life’ and be in the moment more. Tha’s not what leaves me wondering, ‘why the fuck?’ though, it’s this bit… They always come to a conclusion that they want to live life to the full and part of doing that is feeling EVERYTHING there is to be felt, including painful moments, loss, grief. Cue montage of them going through all the different feels from amazed, happy, grief-stricken, adrenaline rush, crying, laughing etc….

And all I can think is, Why? Why would you want to feel all there is to feel? Why? On what part of this god forsaking world would anyone in their right mind want to feel all the things there are to feel?!


Grief? Nah, let’s just skip that! Yea?

Let’s become a psychopath!


It’s now that I end this post saying: fuck life. And in the words of Donald Trump (probably) Fuck it biggly!

The skeleton of prey

They laughed me out of my own body
they laughed me out of my mind
they pecked and pecked
and gobbled up all the parts of me
that left myself behind

They lit up and smoked me down
the butt of jokes fizzled out in ashtrays
poured down the drain
and through all this they bonded
a pack of wolves with their prey

tearing me apart piece by piece
and now the people stare at me
‘why can’t he be more like me?’

Because I am the decay
the left overs
from a feast
the skeleton of prey


The machine

I can’t bend into the shapes
the machine wants me to be
and I’m always coming back to this place
a conclusion
I am not strong enough
for the world, I am in
All the equations add up to this
ever trapped in what and who I am
and between what the world wants to see
the things reflected back to me
the reflections of all the types of men
I ought to be

Meditation teaches us to breathe and be
but breathing is the least of your worries
when you’re feeling like me
and I can only really breathe
when I’m safe from change and stress
so really I learn nothing
and all of this is just a waste of breath

I often wonder what relief it would have been
to have been left to die when I was a baby
instead of still learning how to fucking breathe.

I see the world ahead of me
and I don’t want to be a part of it
but the machine wants me