poetry

~ A Moment in Time ~

~ A Moment in Time ~

In my heart I’ll always be there
Dancing with you on a rooftop in Palermo
Holding your hand while walking by the river
Throwing that frisbee to you in the summer sun.

In my heart I’ll always be there
Cuddling with you on a Sunday morning
Staring into your eyes and your soul
Getting lost in that starry universe.

In my heart I’ll always be there
Running my fingers through your hair
Feeling the light burst through me
As my lips touch yours.

I guess I’m never gonna truly let you go
A part of you will exist within me always
And when my last step is taken
And I fall to the floor of this earth
I will look up to the grand sky above
Feeling your love still flowing through me
And I’ll remember those times of pure joy
When everything was perfectly in place
Hoping I could stay in that moment forever

Dancing with you on a rooftop in Palermo.

poetry

~ The Only Way ~

~ The Only Way ~

I’m sorry, but I can’t be who you want me to be
I know I’ve tried to iron out these creases
To fit my circular shape into a square hole
And I know how wonderful it would be to be with you
To share our journey with love and laughter
But the makeup of myself is something unchangeable.

I thought this time it might be different
With the love of a good woman, I could become sane
I could find a good job and learn to drive and flourish
A regular human-being just like the rest.

But each stride forward just pulls me back
And tells me the inescapable truth
That I do not belong on that side of the street.

My place is here in this broken shack
Lingering with the lost and lonely
Finding my way in the shadows
While writing this poetry.

A part of me has always known this
But your kisses were intoxicating
And like all starved people who get a taste of love
I guess I let delusion get the best of me.

So tonight I finally recognise that this has to come to an end
That the irreparable parts of my character
Now break down this bridge
To leave us standing on separate shores
With only the memory of each other
And at least knowing we tried what others wouldn’t.

But now we know,
That I can’t be who you want me to be,
And that’s okay.

In the end, it’s best for both of us.

In the end,
It’s the only way.

thoughts

~ Round 32 ~

~ Round 32 ~

On the eve of my 32nd birthday, I sit here at my laptop, a beer by my side, wondering what awaits me in the coming year as a strong winter wind blows outside. I’ve sent out another load of job applications today. At this point, with the current job market, it feels like half-heartedly throwing a fishing line into polluted waters to try and catch something fresh. I know I’m not going to yield any tasty results, but I find myself just doing it for the hell of it (perhaps to fight off the insanity that comes from sitting around doing nothing). For the first time in my life, I feel like actually getting a stable, regular job; something to give me some routine and a bit of needed structure. It’s a bleak time to have such a basic wish though. Most of my applications aren’t even viewed, no doubt filtered out by AI systems and keyword searches. And even if they are viewed, it’s a lottery to even hear back from them given the absurd competition (a recent minimum wage warehouse job I applied for has received 1265 applications). I’ve also lately heard that a lot of job adverts are ‘ghost’ adverts – just there to harvest the data of applicants and sell to advertising companies. Yes, the UK in 2024 is not a great country to live in – a failing economy, a dramatically rising cost of living, continuous shit weather, no longer in the EU, and just seemingly going further and further down the drain each year. What chance does any young person have today if not born into wealth? For me, I don’t even ask for a lot; I just want a simple and modest life, living in a one-bedroom apartment, working an introvert-friendly job while writing my books in my spare time. Such a life seems to be increasingly further away as the days of destitution and desperation go by.

Call me a pessimist, but I am of the opinion that the total collapse of our current system is not far away at all. I have watched the cracks in society widen these last years as the gap between the rich and poor grows at an unprecedented rate, leaving hard-working people unable to heat their homes or stock their fridges or fuel their cars. Worker rights are being continually eroded and, for the first time, each generation is poorer than the previous one. On top of this, jobs begin to disappear because of AI and many of the few that do appear are poorly-paid with zero-hour contracts. Meanwhile the cost of rent and groceries skyrockets while wages stagnant. Whatever is happening is certainly not sustainable, and the increasing number of homeless people on the streets only serves as a grim introduction of the post-capitalism wasteland that awaits us. And that’s not even to mention the climate crisis which sits waiting for us as well, ready to well and truly turn this society into something from a post-apocalyptic, dystopian novel.

So, at the age of 32, what is a guy like me to do but drink this beer and type these words and throw more job applications into the void while contemplating the coming downfall of civilisation? Thankfully, I am lucky enough to have a space on a medical research trial starting in two weeks’ time. I will go into a clinic for 20 days and take an experimental medicine and have tests run on me. In return, I will receive over £5000 tax-free cash. I can’t complain, I guess. Medical trials are a great gig that has funded my life the last ten years, but I am getting to the age where I recognise I can’t always rely on testing pharmaceutical drugs for money. But for now it’s enough to keep me from those cold streets and that howling wind – and even afford me a holiday away from this sinking ship of a country.

So yeah, it could be worse I remind myself. That seems to be the way to cheer myself up in the dying hours of the 31st year of my life. It’s been a pretty tough one in all honesty, with terrible periods of insomnia ravaging my mental health throughout the year. But what else is there to do but pick yourself up and go again? Tomorrow I will wake up, do my morning meditation, strap on my running shoes, do some exercise, spend another hour job searching, and then go see my lovely girlfriend for a delicious meal with wine. Though things aren’t the best overall, I will be grateful of the joys in my life, including the simple fact of actually having one. As one man said to me: “Any day above ground is a good day.” Well, thirty-two years into it, I’m still well and truly above ground, and ready to keep on running into that wind, no matter how strong it gets. Cheers to that.

thoughts

~ Back on Track ~

~ Back on Track ~

And then it happened: your life became just like how you feared it would. Each day drifted by without any real passion or purpose. Words came out of your mouth but you didn’t really mean them. Your feet guided you to places you didn’t really want to go. You could no longer smile at the simple things or be silly like you once did. Your shoulders became slouched and you no longer stared up at the stars. You figured that this was just how life was for most people. But every now and again you saw the sight of someone living in the light and you wondered if there was another way. The days went by as you stared into that mirror and searched within your soul. Gradually, you began to notice a distant sound that could be heard within you. Like a lost child calling out to you, the inner voice you had neglected still echoed in the wilderness, trying to guide you back to where you belonged. Slowly you began to realise that your life was in the wrong place, and that you had been diverted off track by distractions and deception. You didn’t know exactly how to get back on track, but you did know that you had to make a drastic change. The only thing you could do now was get off the path you were on – to leap into the wilderness and start tracking down that distant voice calling to you. That is when you stopped being a follower and started being a hunter. That is when your world became alive once again.

short stories

~ New Year, New Me ~

~ New year, New me ~

Another night of laying there unable to sleep. Another night of watching the hours go by as dawn approached, knowing I’d face the world even more sleep-deprived than the day before. Such a situation was nothing new to me. Insomnia had been ravaging my life for years by the time I was in my thirties. It came and went, but at its worst I’d get just a couple of hours of disturbed sleep a night. Sometimes I’d get none. Slowly it would snowball out of control until my mental state was dark, depressed, and delirious. At my very worst, I would even slip into psychosis and begin to have auditory and visual hallucinations. I would be totally exhausted and broken – a pitiful wretch – and all I needed was to simply sleep to fix myself, but I would lay there each night undergoing psychological torture, totally unable to switch off and get the thing my soul was screaming for. One time I got so frustrated I started banging my head against a wall in a desperate attempt to knock myself out. That’s when I realised the severity of the disorder that was violently destroying my life.

It’s now the start of 2024 as I begin this year in this all-too-familiar way. I partly have myself to blame for it, having gone on a weekend bender in Dublin three weeks before. Whenever my routine is disturbed by drinking and late nights, I usually end up spiralling into a state of sleep-deprivation. I guess I should have accepted by now that my partying days are behind me with this paralysing condition, but it’s been hard to let go of all the fun things that filled my youth. So, here I am three weeks on, battling a disease of the mind that no one else can see and only a few can understand. Still, the start of a new year presents the opportunity to start fresh and mark out some targets. Maybe I’ll quit drinking, I say to myself. Maybe I’ll finally get this condition under control. Strict sleeping times and healthy practices. No more partying until dawn. It’s a nice idea that I commit myself to with a sense of vigour and hope. A man can always use the concept of a new year to try and start afresh; even if it’s just a temporary delusion, sometimes that’s what one needs in order to keep marching into another year of existence.

For now though I lay in my room, hiding from the outside world which seemed far too unbearable when one hadn’t slept properly in weeks. I guess it was a good place to be considering that storms had been battering the country for weeks. I couldn’t help but listen to that heavy wind and rain like I was listening to a representation of my turbulent mental state. The nearby river continued to rise as I felt a growing gloom about my life, as if a sprawling swamp surrounded me with sinister creatures lurking somewhere in the shadows. Each year life got considerably harder and I was left wondering how I’ve even made it this far without drowning altogether. I took refuge in the fact that there was obviously some sort of strength inside of me that had kept me fighting off my demons throughout the years – whether that be depression, anxiety, alienation, insomnia, or general madness. However, I didn’t feel as strong and brave as I once did, and things were only getting harder as that river continued to rise and the current got stronger. I could feel my insides shaking; my nervous system vibrating with anxiety. I wondered how the hell I was ever going to get by in this world with my mental health problems and unemployability and the rising cost of living and everything that just seemed to make being a human-being a stupidly difficult and unrealistic task.

I couldn’t let myself get bogged down in a million worries at once, so I set a step by step guide to get out of the darkness first. The first thing I needed was sleep so I focused on fixing that by staying away from booze, meditating, and having set bedtimes. It took a few days but I eventually felt able to head out and face the world. I ran alongside the flooded river; I breathed in the air; I went shopping in the supermarket for healthy foods. Slowly I started to feel somewhat like a human-being again. The next step involved the ever-present necessity of money. I needed a job after my last one decided to let me go a few weeks before Christmas. I started searching and sending out applications. As always, I looked for the most straightforward jobs possible – menial factory or warehouse roles that required you to do just a couple of repetitive tasks. That’s about all I could manage at this point. Perhaps that was my ceiling. I was an autistic daydreamer after all, and my limited capacity for work was hard to ignore when reflecting on my job history.

Although jobless, I was at least getting some income being on government unemployment benefits. It required me to attend meetings with a work coach to tell them the steps I was taking in seeking employment. My last one was at the height of my insomnia when my anxiety was through the roof, and I was unfortunate to be met with a guy who grilled me and got me to apply for terrible call centre roles in which I wouldn’t last more than a few days. This time I was better prepared and lucky enough to be met with a woman who clearly didn’t care as much about her job as the previous guy. Perhaps she too knew what a joke it all was. I sat there describing some jobs I’d applied for, as well as some vague future employment goals. She typed some things into a computer and nodded her head as I accepted my place as a misfit and liability in this society. The tedious process plodded on and eventually came to a merciful end.

I then headed back out into the streets of Nottingham city centre. I walked around and saw them all surrounding me again: the normal, civilised faces of humanity. Presentable people with careers and cars and credit scores and shoe collections. People ready to continue on along the treadmill of a normal, sane life – mortgages and marriages; security and stability. The separation from everyone else all was as strong as ever. It was a new year, but it seemed it was the same old me – wandering the world like some sort of alien that had been cast away on planet earth. Still, I reminded myself that I had a beautiful girlfriend; that I was consistently looking for work; that I was twenty hours into learning to drive. Perhaps this year would be different. Perhaps this year I’d finally smoothen and straighten out. I couldn’t help but shake the feeling that the ‘new year, new me’ optimistic delusion was taking effect once again.

I continued walking towards home until I reached the river. I stopped and sat down on a bench beside it. The water levels had dropped back down to normal and the winter sunshine twinkled upon the surface. I let myself breathe and observed the pleasant scene before me, watching a flock of birds fly along the river and happy dogs stroll along the pathway. It was a place I had experienced great peace before and, after a few minutes, I noticed that peace there in my soul once again. I felt my inner anxiety being alleviated – all the thunder inside being replaced by a loving, radiant light that had filled me before. Despite my current troubles, I knew that it was a beautiful world, and that I really did belong to it – even if I felt out of place in society. Slowly I began to accept myself and where I was in life. Slowly I began to accept that yes – it was a new year, and in reality would never really be a new me, but the best thing I could do was to nurture the part of myself that had guided me to peace and happiness before. At that moment, I made a decision to look after myself a bit better, starting by resisting an offer to go out for drinks that evening. Something inside of me said the way forward this year was as simple as that. My plan wasn’t to conquer the world, or run a marathon, or some specific goal or resolution like that – but to just treat myself with some basic kindness and gentleness. Starting from there, who knew what it would lead to. For when the storm has passed and the destruction has been cast, it seemed the best and only real thing you could do was dust yourself off, pick up the pieces, and let yourself move forward in the direction of the calming and healing light.

poetry

~ Minimalist ~

~ Minimalist ~

It was true that I didn’t have many talents in life
At least not ones that could do the important thing: make money
But although lacking in this area
I was blessed with a specific quality
Of just not needing, or even desiring, much.

Just give me a space to sit and meditate in
A pair of shoes to go running in
A basic laptop to do some writing on
And that’s my happiness covered.

Okay, of course, I need food and a roof over my head
But once these things are met
I am as rich as the richest man
In fact, I have what many of the rich don’t have:
I have enough.

Just sitting and staring out the window now
Watching the trees sway in the winter wind
And the birds fly from branch to branch
I sip a coffee and feel a completion
That is greater than any millionaire in a mansion.

How or why would I be motivated
To go and join in the rat race
Working hard for things I don’t want or even need
When pure bliss is available
In the here and now.

A car is just more stress and expense
Much more enjoyable to walk or cycle
My own home is just a burden again
I don’t want to have to pay for a new boiler
Or constantly maintain it
I’d rather just pay some rent.

Maybe I’m just a bum
But I’ve found my own way
To make it through this life
While maintaining some peace
And sense of sanity.

Looking around me
I believe that is more than most.

poetry

~ Who Am I Kidding?~

~ Who Am I Kidding? ~

Who am I kidding?
Trying to be an ordinary person
Getting my driver’s licence
A girlfriend, a job
A routine.

Who am I kidding?
Dressing up nicely
Tidying my room
And calming the fire inside.

It may be suppressed, at times
Even dwindling
But the spark is always there
Waiting to erupt
And engulf me again.

Some things are inevitable
And who the hell am I kidding
Thinking that there will ever be a time
When I’m not wading through the sewers
And being covered in all the shit
That is now seeped into my soul.

I no longer wish to lie to myself
Only to face the harsh light
That unveils the truth I cannot escape.

Tonight I throw away the mask
And stare into the mirror
Beholding my scarred, scratched flesh
Facing the grim reality
Of my maniacal self.

I was never made to be clean
I was never made to be normal
I was never made to write words
That are different from these.

I was made to linger on the outskirts
To drift in the darkness
And let my own madness
Consume me totally.

This truth is unavoidable
And please, do not pity me
For this act of accepting who you are
Gives one a certain freedom in life.

It’s the freedom of unbolting your own cage
And letting yourself be unrestrained
Wandering in your natural wilderness
Your claws sharpened; your eyes wide.

Your strongest, strangest
Unshakable self.

poetry

~ Listen Here ~

~ Listen Here ~

Hear this heart sing
Though you try to silence it
And wish me to get in line
Suppressing my spirit
I shall continue to refuse
For I know that sanity of yours
Is slowly killing you
Your tired eyes tell it all
Your soul is screaming for music
And I do not wish to kill my song too
No conformity or career
Will put an end to this
As this grey world continues
You’ll find me dancing within
Where my song plays loud
Shaking the walls and windows
Keeping me thoroughly alive
And no amount of knocking at the door
Will cause this precious symphony
To stop soaring.

poetry

~ Eyes to the Sky ~

~ Eyes to the Sky ~

I want to say something that has never been said
But the reality is that I’m just another man
Having the same experience of life as many other men
No matter how unique one believes their feelings
They have been experienced before by some other poor fool
Who couldn’t quite make sense of this crazy world
But I’m going to say it anyway:

Born into this fragile skin
I was always going to end up scarred
But I didn’t expect the cuts to go this deep
As I stand here now at the age of thirty-one
Still a shaking, shivering mess inside
Wondering where the hell it is I belong
And how I’m going to find my way through these woods
To finally find my place in the sunlight
That seems to be there beyond the trees
As I look up at that light streaming in,
Its presence teasing me almost.

Perhaps a person was never meant to have it all
But only to get flickers of the good life
Those precious rays that sometimes filter through
That touch the skin and widen the eyes
Before the darkness of the forest returns
And the fight continues.

poetry

~ Spontaneous Saturday Evening Poem ~

~ Spontaneous Saturday Evening Poem ~

It’s a Saturday evening and I’m home alone
Trying to write a poem
I’m listening to ambient music
Looking at pretty pictures of sunsets
Hoping that inspiration will strike
As the words come flooding onto the page.

It’s a strange process that is hard to explain
But doing this, instead of being at the bar,
Well it gives me the sort of joy
That one only gets when they are in touch
With something spiritual and sacred.

For some reason I decided to be a writer
I’ve been doing it for over ten years now
Nothing has really made much sense to me
Except when I’m organising words together.

School didn’t come naturally
Jobs didn’t come naturally
Social life didn’t come naturally
But for some reason this did.

And that’s why I’m here tonight
Still giving it all that I’ve got
Sailing out on the sea of creative thought
Lowering my net into the depths
And trying to catch a big juicy
200 pound poem to take home
And display on my wall.

For now it appears I’ve only caught this one
Which, admittedly, isn’t my best
But hey, I’m having fun
Typing these words
Jamming out alone
On a Saturday evening.

I’ll think I’ll even crack open a beer
As I keep on sailing on this sea
Doing the thing which puts everything in the right place
Which makes me feel like I’m on that dancefloor
Busting my moves and celebrating life
In all its strange joy.