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 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.

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



Lyrics: Can’t breathe


Sometimes when I can’t quite figure out how to write an idea I get my guitar and play it (badly) and often the strumming brings words out and I will sing (extremely badly) any thoughts that come out of my head.

No I can’t really write music, I just strum a long and see what flows. My guitar playing is…. bad. So I don’t have music to this, and no, I really, really, can’t sing! So it will have to remain written only.

This anxiety has filled my lungs with the sea
I can’t breathe
And I’m supposed to make a recovery
but when I leap up to the surface
I can’t breathe
A fish out of water
in society

And all the people
talk about the likes of me
‘what and who should they be?
I love freedom
look at me
but lock him up
he’s a freak.’


And this anxiety
has filled my lungs with the sea
I can’t breathe
I leap to the surface
a fish out of water in society
and I can’t breathe.

We should open up the circus
he can be an orca in a tank
bang your hands and feet against the glass
provoke him and you’ll see
he will seethe
and that will confirm our beliefs

And this anxiety has filled my lungs with the sea
And I can’t breathe
And I’ve got to make a recovery
in this fucked up society
and I can’t breathe

Too human

You’ve got to be super sane
to fight for the rights of your people
Because if you don’t act like a ducks back
if you let them see the slightest crack
they will shake their fists
‘see this is why we can’t talk to the likes of you,
you’re too emotional
mentally ill.’

So I guess we’re supposed to be robots
but then haven’t you heard of the uncanny valley?
we’d still be too human for you!

And that is the crux of the issue



Fools rags

Our sanity is all the fucking fashion
gotta be the good one so they’ll listen
Don’t quite shift the status quo
and they might just leave you alone.

Our sanity is all the fashion
Must put on my best mask
mustn’t break, must learn to be a ducks back
Must be Sisyphus rolling that boulder there and back
forever and ever
musn’t fucking break.

Gotta be always fucking sane
be a good one to wipe the extremes away
because they only believe the headlines
that’s what they bring up in the head lights
when you shine them on their eyes

you try to argue your case
they twist your words
and squirm away
‘look at the headlines!’ they say

Because man bites dog is common in their eyes
they’ve seen it in black and white
they know more than you or I
it was in the fools rags
man bites dog, it happens everyday.



The savageness of being human

A contortion of years
Pass by on faces
For milliseconds at a time

Frankenstein’s skeletons within
Gargoyles screaming
Through the pores of our skin

Stories running through the wrinkles
Harbouring humour
Creasing at the thought of those we’ve lost

Skin sagging with the baggage
Being human
Consciousness a savage

Wreaking havoc
On our mammalian brains