I stumble between
clanking bottles,
Sounding out
like gunshots in the rain,
death knells echoing
around my brain.
Each thudding chime
nailing the lid to my coffin.
I stumble in search
of a feeling less hollow.
An extrovert wrapped in introvert skin.
An introvert screaming to be released.
A smile always hidden behind
a mask of pain. A creased
layer of misery.
I coat myself in aftershave
to douse the rot,
covered up inadequacies
by falling over, a lot.
22 - So young, so dumb,
so lost and alone.
I walked a long road.
I stumbled along.
I fumbled with who
I would become,
I ambled into a world
I didn’t belong,
and fell into a hole
where my soul came undone.
Naive and weak,
my blood leaked
over every cobbled stone.
I created a home
out of makeshift dreams
and scrambled thoughts,
tied together with invisible vine,
I served my frozen heart on a platter,
time after time.
I lied to myself that I was fine.
I fell to my own demons
and let them pull me down
like a crowd surfer being swept along
the crest of a wave.
A wave of demons
Dancing over the coals of hell,
and I’m but a shell,
suffocating on my own bile.
33 - I died.
Operating tables
and hospital gowns.
Tubes connected me
to ups and downs.
I was flying on clouds
through nightmare skies,
unsure whether anyone
heard my cries,
but I opened my eyes
and I was reborn at last,
a pen in hand
to walk how
I chose to walk.
With renewed hope I stand.
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