There is so much anger in the world at the moment.

Through every gap in conversation

we learn that the world is closing in on us

inch by inch.

Behind closed doors meetings are going on

talking about weapons,

mass destruction

through every smile we can see cracks, lies,

“The deceitful one”

we are all becoming paranoid of each other

yet, we are all inseparable from each other,

we will drink from each other’s well

yet, we want to poison it,

and we all live in a small space

yet we want to make it smaller

burn it down

down

down.

#war #anger #parannoia

This poem is from the poetry collection 'Broken Doll' - http://bit.ly/brokendollmt

The silence hits me hard

like a brick to a double glazed window,

it shatters the protective layers.

My scarred face reflecting

in its many shards, it reminds me that I’m…

a burst balloon, a hungry vulture feeding,

a torn bed sheet, maggots on a rotting corpse.

Never liked by society

Never was

Never will be.

This is from the collection 'Broken Doll' - bit.ly/brokendollmt

#regret #guilt #dark

I take the clock from the wall

this item doesn’t do me any good,

it constantly reminds me

of the time spent using words I never understood.

I take the tv from its stand

this item, such a waste of time,

the people so beautiful in full colour

but just never will be mine.

I take out the sofas and chairs

comfort, well, it’s just not on my side,

when all I can do is sit in this chair

feeling I need a corner, a crevice, to hide.

This poem is from the collection 'Broken Doll'- bit.ly/brokendollmt

#depression #mentalhealth #sadness #dark

Friendship is a necessary pain, a necessary torture,

it’s what Humans need to experience in order to grow stronger,

wiser,

less desperate,

having our hopes and wishes cherished like a new born baby

then murdered, one stab to the heart, it’s the start

of a new transformation in being Human,

learning that not every living person gives a shit

but will suck up every one of your last pennies,

until you can’t even afford food to live

these once called “friends” will humiliate you,

sit you down on your knees to worship foreign gods

they will strip you of your dignity,

then, when the fad is over

when it’s not “cool” anymore,

they will come knocking at around midnight

just about sober,

holding a symbol of peace

be it a flower, or a friendship bracelet

and, foolishly, you will take it,

believing that they have learnt

believing that they have moved on,

but this is the nature of being Human

not knowing where our heart should belong.

This poem is from the collection 'Broken Doll' - bit.ly/brokendollmt

#love #relationships #friendship #heartbreak #pain

I can hear the voices of my past friends, they whisper me to sleep

as in the white heat of anger I weep and I weep,

they tell me to forget, but I could never forget

this room lay empty now, filled only with regret.

I can see my friends outside the window

they don’t look at me, they cannot see,

the person they created when they

turned away and forgot about me.

I sit in a cold, cold room alone with nothing

I know this depression booklet won’t save,

those condescending, patronizing sentences

will follow me to my grave.

I can hear the voices of my friends, they whisper me to sleep

as in the white heat of anger

I weep

and I weep.

This poem is from the collection ‘Broken Doll’ - bit.ly/brokendollmt

#anger #relationships #friendships #emotions #dark #poem

Words don’t hurt me like they used to

they bounce off me gently, skip lightly along my surface,

they cease to provoke me, anger me and upset me

I’m no longer a public mirror to look into.

But, still I feel like my life is still under 24 hour surveillance

every blink, breath, whisper, caught and recorded, kept away,

to stare at daily and pick at, deciphering every meaning to every word I say.

Every day the lens is cleaned and checked for damage

every tape is repeatedly played,

checking vigorously for evidence of a crime,

a crime that I never committed though, except being a victim to time.

This poem is from the collection 'Broken Dolll' - http://bit.ly/brokendollmt

#regret #anger #sadness #dark

I sit alone and watch a small spider

spin webs of security without thought,

without any malice or bad intention it waits

until a fly gets inevitably caught.

Then, it eats the fly slowly, mindfully

until the small piece of protein is gone,

it then returns to fixing its web again

without any intruding thought of right or wrong.

It appears through cracks and openings

without meaning to cause a fright,

to the pale white person seeing eight spread legs

reflecting in beautiful light,

it has no concept of love or hate

a bit like me, it just wanders aimlessly, unaware, innocent

hoping its web will catch its bait.

I do not have eight legs, but my mind is like a spider

wandering from corner to corner, every dusty place,

now inhabited by cobwebs and dead flies

like my own abandoned living space.

I am not a bad person, honest, please hear

please don’t cast me aside with derision,

or squash me with your size

I’m just a small, small spider,

through my small, small eyes.

This poem is from the collection 'Broken Doll' - bit.ly/brokendollmt

#poem #mentalhealth #metaphor #dark

Cigarette butts are now my fascination

it’s the irreversible effect,

life then death

a bit like torture

it goes on, then it goes out

but it cannot be forgotten

the change is irreversible.

I like the way they are pushed, shoved,

squashed into little holes

forced into funny positions

forgotten about straight away.

Cigarette butts are now my fascination

it’s the irreversible effect,

light on, light out

like a light to heaven glowing

crying out to be seen

but no,

its used and abused

like one train of thought,

choked on daily

sucking the life out of it.

I like the way the foot drags

upon the stone floor

putting the butt out with no, no effort

like torture it goes on, then it goes out

but it cannot be forgotten.

This poem is taken from the collection 'Broken Doll' - bit.ly/brokendollmt

#poem #mentalhealth #abuse #dark #metaphor

My life was so delicate

until a single, well-thrown stone broke it,

now my life is desecrated

parts scattered around, some missing,

my life now a broken doll

and now the strings of evil control it.

My life was an antique

but an old, heartless thief stole it,

now I face the mirror

my limp limbs and frail skin,

reflecting in the light

my impurities uncovered,

now they control me.

I’m a broken doll

a muse,

a toy to use,

break,

then blame.

This poem is from the poetry collection 'Broken Doll' - bit.ly/brokendollmt

#mentalhealth #abuse #poem #dark

I want to enter myself

I want to dig deep below the surface of my skin,

putting my fingers into the bloody pool

is how I want my purification to begin.

I want to walk inside myself

I want to spray graffiti along the subways of my brain,

these long, winding roads to nothing

have rendered me insane.

I want to swim inside myself

I want to feel the thickness of my blood,

the weight of it, the pull of it, weigh me down

in this self-made androgynous mess

it is time for me to drown.

24/8/10

The video to this poem is here-

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o3ctHQBx9xQ

#poem #suicide #pain #lgbt #sexuality