Bad Plan

Ok. So, listen. I feel like my
Words don’t do justice to my
Feelings and lately I’ve been
Believing more and more in
Solutions, and not the good kind,
No, the kind I mean are the permanent
Solutions, like acid washing away skin

And bone but I am the bone, and I don’t
Know what to do, selfish, yeah. That’s me,
Well life’s not a fucking movie screen and
My downs aren’t countered by ups, no. Not
Me. And I don’t recognise this person who
Walks the streets at 3 am, I don’t recognise

This person making plans for no plan at all,
I used to be hopeful. I used to stand tall,
Taller than this and if I had one wish it would
Be to climb out of this hole I’ve sunken into
But here’s the problem. This hole is a sink hole
And it only goes down and no matter how much

Ladder is sent my way it’s never enough, I’ve
Been in therapy for months and every hour I
Feel the sink hole slowing down, just the smallest
Bit and I think its just a glitch in the system because
Once I leave that cushioned armchair the system rolls
On again, my friends have dove in with rope tied

Around their waists and tried to face my demons
With me, but there’s only so far they can go and I’ve
Surpassed it. They’ve surpassed me. I’ve made myself
Bleed to hear the blood drops reach the end. There is
No end. There is no end. There is no end. It echoes
And I can’t fend for myself anymore. I’m too young

To be this tired. I fired the last flare millenniums ago
But no one has seen the spark, I’ve lost mine in the
Dark. The worst part is I can still see the light above.
That tiny spec where the living dwell and I can’t help
But think to myself how wonderful that must be, but
To me, it’s torture and there’s only one way to be freed.


Finding your Feet

You get up.

You don’t want to but
You do, partly because your
Mothers in the next room, partly
Because you’ve things to do, partly
Because your sister needs you to fix
The code to the internet, trust her to
Forget again, partly because there is no war
Without fight and you want to claim that
You tried, partly because there’s only so

Much night you can take, partly because
Of the things you can make from this, partly
Because of all the times you’d resist the day
Partly because you’re sick of fading away,
Partly because living isn’t living unless you’re
Alive, partly because you want to be alive,
Partly because you want to thrive and breathe
And laugh and love and hurt and be. And be
Happy. So you get up. And you stay up.

We Used to Fly Kites

Remember that time we
Counted to ten to see if the
Bogeymen would find us?
Well mine found me, at the

Corner of the street where we
Used to fly kites and pass the
Time talking about the future.
It all seems so bleak now, a

Raincloud over my head drenching
Me from above, I’d love to hear
Your voice and soothing tones but
After that day you left me alone, left

Me to my own devices and I didn’t
Fight it. I figured alone is where I
Was supposed to be and it took me
Weeks to drag myself to my feet again,

But, I regained my balance, like you used
To on skateboard and I removed the
Sword I fell on from my chest, but, I think
It took my heart too and it made me think
Of you and your gap tooth dreams.

Finger Painting

I paint my headstone in crayon
The kind you use when you are
Young and impressionable and
The sun always peaks in on the
Corner of the page, those kinds,
Do you remember them? I found

A packet in the two-euro store, I
Bought four so I could paint it blue
All the way around, the sides, the
Front and the back, I considered
Black but I thought it was a little
Mediocre for the message I was

Going for, you know, I don’t want
To bore. This is very important for
Those who don’t get it, for those
Who are living it, the black I mean,
Because I was once told black is the
Absence of colour and I didn’t believe

That until the colour ran out, a single
Tremor in my body and the light snuffed,
The light inside of my chest, the dull thump
Of darkness never ending began to beat
Anew. I wish I knew tunnels don’t always
Have an ending and paint doesn’t always

Come off the skin. Like tattoos. It’s not a
Thing that you can begin again. So when
People ask me if I’m white or tan or black
I can understand why because there is a
Rainbow on my skin hiding who I am, from
Foot to palm like camouflage, which is why it

Is very important that I paint this blue. It’s
My favourite colour and it’s my truth.


What are centuries to men of
War? The colour of sword play
Flashing in the wane moonlight,
The fight is strong and it has been

A long time since any semblance of
Normalcy, breakfast, lunch and dinner,
Bleeds from letters, children calling their
Soldiers home. All they get are ashen bones

Scrounged by scavengers off the dusty plains,
Assigning blame is what fuels the flame, toddlers
Shoes turn into military boots and the cycle
Continues, never-ending. Time is bending and

Changing but fundamentally this is the same,
Flash bangs and grenades, loose bullets and
Broken names. Sanity and words of brave
People surrendering their very existence,

The mixed up drive of humanity, where
Hope and love get left behind and horrors
Replace the good in life.

Ramblings by Grim

Here is your life line, I’ve woven
It tight but it comes apart from time
To time, that’s added price-to
Get it repaired. Unless you don’t care,
But years are valuable desires, don’t
Hold it too close to fire, water too, try

To avoid being black and blue, you only
Get one, the unholy truth, and if it snaps
In half then you’re doomed, I’m not certified
To fix anything, no, it doesn’t matter what you
Bring, gold, copper, iron or love, you’ll have to
Take it up with the man above, I’ve got the

Premium package in store for you, pure chance,
Pure luck, and it’ll do, eighty or so odd cycles,
Avoid hills, little tip for you there, and stairs,
Your bones won’t take them by seventy-three,
By sixty-five you’ll be struck by grief, so keep
That in mind and hold onto it tight, if you don’t

You won’t make the night, I’ve got your kids one’s
in the works, yes, surprise! For whatever that’s
Worth. I think that’s all, for the while, just write your
Name. Here, on this file. Very well, now off you go,
I do look forwards to watching you grow.

Don’t Run In My House

It’s time to admit defeat,
You’ve scarred your feet
Running yourself ragged,
You’re haggard and weak,

Need water and sleep, stop
Torturing yourself and beating
The cool pallor crystal skin
Stop beginning again, the starting

Line isn’t some kind of prize its
Dangerous, especially in moonlight,
Come inside, off to bed or soon
There will be nothing left, I’ve
Got you friend, I’ve got you friend.