I don’t know how to start this,I suppose I’ll start by saying I feel numb. I thought after coming back from Berlin I’d be fine and these thoughts wouldn’t come back. I came back from Berlin feeling ok about things ,particularly my exams I thought, ok it isn’t the end of the world if I don’t get the grades I want or I don’t get into a Russel group . I really don’t know what the matter is on the outside I am always known as the happy,jolly, kind person but inside I feel like I’m rotting and I’ve lost my spark I once had.
I don’t know whether if it’s the exams or my mindset as a whole is going downhill. I’ve never said a thing to anyone about it because I don’t want to be judged and I suppose that’s why I’m writing on here , to clear my head and gain some clarity.
I’m in that awful panicky stage I have a got a good nights sleep since the beginning of March and my teacher had a talk with me saying I was the hardest working student he’d ever known and if I didn’t do so well he’d help me with university as it wouldn’t be out of not trying.
Now I’m in the state of over sleeping ,now I don’t know whether it’s because of my time patters being messed about but I’m having 8-11hrs sleep on a daily basis. I’ve gotten myself into a vicious cycle where if I don’t revise it bugs me and I constantly have to do more.
I’ve had nosebleeds in three days solid , woken up dizzy and had a knot in my stomach and this morning I’ve felt really awful, I can’t really explain the feeling but it’s been a mental thing and I don’t really know what’s going on.
I mean I’ve been out and now I feel alright but slightly guilty , but if anyone can help please do .
Can Night remember, My cold vintage memories, Leave silent hour.
Eager youths, mature men,
As brothers or father and son,
We shared , we tried,
We dared, they died,
Not a tear was shed,
But we cried,
As they lay in their graves,
We shall remember forever.
Today I attended a remembrance service, my grandad fought in the second world war and died in August this year. My Grandad wrote poetry inspired by his experience during the war , here is one of them.
Who are these men? These quiet men , Who march with their heads held high, With the band a-playing and Standards flying, They march so proudly by.
They march to pay their quiet respect, To the comrades they saw die, Midst shot and shell at the gates of Hell, With their utmost they did try, To save the world for anarchy their sole and single aim But so many stayed in foreign lands, forever to remain.
These are the men who fought in tanks , And are of many ranks, For an Eighty-eight could see no stripe or crown, As it brought death and horror down.
So these quite man, who march today, And think of days gone by, Will think of friends long passed away , And say a sad Good-bye.
Hungover on poetry,
It’s wrapped around my eyes.
I’ve drank it buckets.
Now I see the Light.
Throat sore with speech,
My eyebags are dark.
Like images of words,
that I now see.
Was the poetry spiked?
Did I lap up too many,
Over too soon.
Did I trip over?
Did they make a fool out of me?
But I can’t remember a thing.
Words , oh words . Oh God please stop!
There’s vomit on the doorstep,
My shoes ,
The clean bed sheets,
And the toilet seat.
I shouldn’t have mixed mixed Carol Anne Duffy, with my own special brew.
Or let others give me shots of
I should have closed my mouth
To stop the migraine.
The litre of water last night wasn’t enough.
To cure the poetry hang over.
Breakfast might make it better.
Still more words .
On the box.
Sickness is growing and I can’t stop the din.
The words are louder,
Dead on my bed,
I can’t find the cure.
Drink some more poetry.
That might stop the sore.
Light up my life,
Teach me to breathe.
Night is a blanket.
I need you to see.
Unmask the Darkness.
Cover the cold,
Through rays of sunshine;
My eyes to behold.
Scatter the leaves,
Into distant lands,
Majestic colours into childrens hands.
Through decay, keep things bright.
The night is drawing,
Out goes light.
Autumn you’re failing..
Hugging the cold.
Daylight more precious than gold.
Autumn be Summer.
The woman of madness.
of loose morals.
Blooming her flowery buds.
Protecting your children with tender care.
Instead you rot ,
Turn brighteness to decay.
You back stabbing beast.
No one wants you to stay.
Winter , the Ice Queen will get in your way
The power of icicles jabbing your heart.
The frosty breath killing your soul.
Leaving a trail of death as she walks through the land.
Autumn she’ll kill you if you don’t flee.
Go..Go away now!
Go be free.
I’m not giving you a heart or a beautifully penned poem.
Wrapped in a brown parcel;
Like the moon shedding light onto your darkened world.
Multi layered, complex , hard to unravel the mysteries of a woman.
You peel trying to undress her;
Feeling the curves of her smooth bottom, breasts, hips. Undressing love, until there is nothing but a twig.
Shatter her in half.
You will feel the sting burn your eyes. Tears. Trembling reflection.
The fiery kiss will leave you with an urge for more. An addiction;
Leaving her breath , the taste of her love on your mouth for days.
Faithful, like we are.
As long as we both are.
Shrink it to a wedding ring, if you want.
Leaving the perfumed scent on your fingers for eternity.
Clinging to you.
An attention seeker.
Tapping on my roof with little hammers.
Tapp, tapp, tapping. Louder , louder , louder.
Bouncing downwards dripping on my forehead;cleansing my face in autumnal tears as the clouds cry ; causing makeup to peel from my face.
You shower me like a baby. Icy droplets shocking my skin like an angry lightning bolt.
Oh heavens how you weep; grieving for your dead child. Instead washing squirrels tenderly, giggling as you watch them flitter from branch to branch. Taking away your pain.
Giving the rosehips a new coat of polish preparing them for human reflection. Oh rain you cause the mud to grow trapping wellington boots, dragging them into a murky grave.
And yet you still keep bouncing.
I saw them plastered into the wall those heads, those mouths. White eyes reflecting the rays of the sun looking at us as we entered the school gates. Sticks ,stones , old battered text books thrown at their unblinking faces. Their mouths still open as if the plaster had silenced their repeated mumbles.
They were staring at us as if they were trying to give us some message about God, or the meaning of life , or something, something which I couldn’t place my finger on.
Then the darkness came, the sun dipping like a wave , shattering everything. Their eyes blinked, a spark enlightened. The heads along with morphed bodies filled into the playground like a line of soldiers marching.
Haunting music played ,the bodied danced intertwining legs, arms, bodies tongues; In a repeated seductive whisper.
The children watched frozen like ice. Their heads tearing away from bodies, their blood pooling into a river. Eyes popping out of sockets.
The music stopped playing ,the noise ended. The heads, the bodies floated only to be muffled by concrete and dust.Voices silenced, pupils vanished.
Leaving me . Alone.