Last Swing

We have battles with our demons
Our own wars in our heads
Blood, sweat and tears today are still shed
But instead of world war
It’s hell inside our minds
With all of these tyrants
Pulling the wool over our eyes
We see him in the mirror
But we don’t look
We think the enemy is someone else
And that’s why you miss your own left hook
The enemy is within us
And to think he can be defeated
Is a lie we’re sold
All we can do is keep fighting
Some days we’ll win
But the fight is never over
Until you take your last swing.

Keeping bulls in cages

In my resistance
these thoughts become more insistent
restraining these feelings
Acting in the moment
Before you can clearly see things
And so much for all this talk of empathy
And being sold ideals
Of no anger
yet the more I don’t allow
The bull a little run
The more angry it becomes
Raging even before the storm
All because I hold too tight
In the hopes I could contain it
But it’s almost killed me, so many nights
Restraining bulls
In cages

In(s)ane enquiries that turn into in(s)ane ramblings

Hello, firstly I’d like to compliment your annual publication received by us tenants. It has the kind of smell I enjoy from reading material. May I ask what paper & ink combination you use for such a scent?
I am fully aware not many people will admit to being page sniffing connoisseurs, and so this question may seem strange, but I figured we all gotta live sometimes, right? Some of my friends go skydiving and boring things like that. I suppose if we could combine sniffing books and other reading material with skydiving maybe I’d give it a go. But I presume when falling from such a height and your face is flapping in the wind that the laws of physics would have it so you couldn’t smell much anyway.

As for the building and the flat I live in I have no major complaints. I guess one issue would be a preference for more soundproofing so that the neighbours can’t hear me maniacally laughing and crying simultaneously. All my neighbours roll their eyes at such occurrences in the knowledge I’ve seen myself in the mirror again, I know they roll their eyes because I keep catching them as they roll under my door. I have since put a draft excluder at my door to prevent them getting under, it seems to do the trick. It’s ironic though as if there were a war I still wouldn’t need a draft excluder because I’d be excluded from the draft because of my mental instability anyway.

Yours faithfully
Matt

P.S Please get back to me about the ink & paper combination.

Sunday Wordle: The village

The village swallowed you whole
And you became strangers
To the tribe you used to know
Even the best friends
As you spat on your hands and shook
A promise of brotherhood
Now everything quakes
In the balance
You thought friendship
Was made in stone
Your pride is hard to swallow
When your undoing was your own
Now you’ve a heart shaped hole
Waiting on the beating
Of another