Running to Death

I could feel the wind brushing against my cheeks

As I ran full power towards the train railway crossing

When I reached the crossing my insanity took hold

And I walked onto the tracks and sat down

I waited until I heard the sirens and the gates closing

Then I started to panic but stayed sat there

The train stopped it, it had seen me

My plan had failed, as usual

A woman helped me up and over the barrier

And the next poem will tell the rest

But I was sectioned by the police.

Reckless

Reckless drinking

Reckless spending

Reckless sex

Reckless pretending

Pretending I’m normal

Pretending I’m fine

When in fact

I’m dying inside.

Walking Through Treackle

It’s like your stepping in treacle

Your foot drowns in the sticky substance

Gradually your body is pulled under

So slowly, nit you cannot fight back

So you are tortured by your own body

As it shuts down and gives up

Walking through treacle is depression

Being drowned slowly, painfully.

One Bottle

One bottle or two

One spliff or three

Who knows when

All you do is sleep

Eat junk food and cry

Living in a squalor

Not cleaning yourself

Or the surroundings

One bottle will do

But maybe two.