Tuesday, 20 March 2018

When You Come Back

I know what silence is once I have spoken. I know what trust is once it is broken. I know what love means when you are leaving. I know what life is when I am grieving. I leave the light on still, just hoping. That you'll come back to me, with your arms open. That you'll find me again in all your roaming. Look upon me, as if I'm not joking. At some point when you can't keep going, Look for me, I'll still be doting.

Thursday, 8 March 2018

"Take It Off! Let Me Breathe!"

I will be there, I will be crawling and appalling and I will be feeling square. I will take the rope and hang my hopes and dangle my despair. I will fry my bones to dust in that old electric chair. I don't think that anyone besides my kids would really care - they'd long for lost time, and a love they didn't share, but would they really think of me or what I could've been? They'll be thinking of themselves and what they could've seen. No one puts you first when you're just an old has-been. I am saving them from something awful, from something so obscene.

Hej Då

Each new day I feel your fingers slip further away. Our close knit bond is getting looser and shows the early signs of fray, our solid rock is weathered and is turning to a brittle clay. Back in the day you were once so eager, now your efforts to stay have become so meager. Our hearts once raced and beat in our ears like a speaker, now we find our pulse just seems to get weaker and weaker.

Saturday, 24 February 2018

Unloved Children

Nothing sits right inside you, nothing can find its proper place. I have been attempting to corral you for a while but nothing else seems to fill your empty space. Defeatedly I must resign myself to throw away the chase, to push you out into the world where you will cause me such disgrace.

I Just Want The Chance To Win, But No One Wants To Let Me In

It's all too big, and I am nothing. I am barely worth the effort crushing. Yet I am bleeding out, I'm gushing. Through every seam I am unstuffing.
I've got feelings, I am blushing, and every compliment from you I've been off brushing, against the tide of thoughts onrushing, my face is sore from all this bluffing.

I will take your love and keep it in my chest,
Lock it tightly, and do my very best,
To never look, to keep it tightly pressed.
To never speak, to leave it unconfessed.

Friday, 23 February 2018

Inflammable Means Flammable

Are we just wasting time until we are united? Is spending time with these other people nothing but short sighted? Should we not stoke these embers and see our love ignited, not hold back but be excited to make this love requited?

Tin Man

I can see your every feeling etched upon your face. You wear past miseries with an air of quiet grace. Your eyes belie a hurt that I'm not sure I can erase, but I'll give it every effort, I'll try in any case. I just want to see you happy even if you can't forget. I just want your mask to slip and take with it your regret. I want you to see the world through your future, not the past, let go the wrong and see that your potential is still vast. I want to be the armour that you have clad yourself therein, I want to draw a line around you and let no more sadness in. I want to take your hand and show you what it means to be alive, that living isn't misery, in happiness we thrive.


You ever get that feeling that today was great and nothing was mundane, that you just want to go to sleep, get up and do it all over again? No? Oh. Well. Neither do I. Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever be capable of finding happiness whilst I'm still alive. I'd like to give this entry another couple of lines, but honestly I'm short on hope and shorter still on time.

Thursday, 22 February 2018

She Caught My Vacant Staring And Ripped Me From My Dreams

I wanna pat you on the head and laugh until we both are dead. I wanna take your troubles and kick them to death, eat together, love each other, make sure that you're well fed. I want you to sleep by my side so I can feel your shallow breaths, your little mouth puckered, peacefully it rests. When you are happy what more can I feel but blessed? She asks what I am thinking, "oh, nothing" I protest.

Sunday, 18 February 2018

My Nike Air's May Have Deflated But You Keep My Heart So Full, Would You Knit My Broken Heart A Sling From Your Little Ball Of Wool?

Perhaps in this life you'll never by my wife,
And perhaps I'll learn to pretend that that is fine.
At least in these jumbled blurbs and messy words,
I can be yours and I can pretend that you are mine.

If we could touch would it hurt as much,
As never having known the feeling?
If we were close, would I be so engrossed,
Would it still be so appealing?

To love from afar, is to have a scar,
Is to be made permanently weaker.
To live life unrequited is to be blighted,
There's nothing blacker nor bleaker.

Saturday, 17 February 2018

What It's Like To Love Me

What is it like to love me? Oh! I wouldn't know,
I've never loved a single thing about myself,
So I couldn't tell you so.

All I know is what it's like to be loved by me:
like a warm summer day without reprieve,
where you're happy just to be in the shade of a tall, billowed tree,
when suddenly, dappled light through chequered leaves,
skitters and dithers, as the slightest breeze,
picks up and makes you pause, at ease,
close your eyes and as if for the first time, you truly breathe.

Then a knave approaches you upon his knees,
All you wanted was diamonds but he's brought you manganese.
All you wanted was chalk and he's jokingly brought you cheese.
You express your feelings earnestly and for it you are teased.
You ask about the birds but he only knows the bees.

You thought you had your breath, but suddenly you wheeze.

The Smash And Dash Panache

How can we stay together when my first reaction is to cut and run? When I've made a thousand promises and I've broken every one. How can I trust myself to turn the other cheek? To give you what you want sometimes and to bring you what you seek. How can I do what's right by you and be your perfect man? When I can barely scrape myself off the couch, when I can't construct a single plan.

Friday, 16 February 2018

To Love Her As A Friend

It saddens me to think
She cannot comprehend
That I could be content
To simply love her as a friend
I'm not saying if she offered me more
I wouldn't hop, skip, jump and take it
She's amazing
So of course
But if her companionship is all she wants to give
It's wondrous enough that it's still a reason for me to want to live.

Wednesday, 14 February 2018

Black-Hearted Cunt

I'm a black-hearted cunt
You lit a fire in me
And practically burnt the thing to dust
What few scraps you feed me are my crutch in so much
As even a tar black heart
That has mostly been burnt to dust
Has a little part of it that remains untouched
And longs still to be loved
I'd become an alcoholic
But there's too high a risk of optimism when drunk
Without your love
I will forever be a black-hearted cunt.

Sunday, 11 February 2018


My love, she often doesn't notice
I fear if I were to announce it it would be hopeless
On the occasions I've come the closest
I sense it's not been something she's wanted to know or cope with
So I carry it alone with me mostly silently
Whilst my heart often aches violently
I hope if nothing else
She knows that I want her to be happy
And I'll always be there for her
Until my heart is at peace finally.

Wednesday, 7 February 2018

The Lover I Can't Mend

It saddens me to think
She cannot comprehend
That I could never be content
To simply love her as a friend
I'm not saying if she offered me less
I wouldn't graciously take it
She's amazing
So of course I would brave face it
But what's depressing is what she can't see -
She thinks she's garbage,
She thinks she's not good enough for me.
Her confidence has been eroded
Ingrained sexism has corroded
Every corner of her brain
She looks upon each mirror
With inordinate disdain
Her potential has been curbed and goaded
It's left her like a bomb
That's gone unexploded.

Saturday, 3 February 2018

Echt A Sect Junior

Tell me what makes you, tell me what breaks you,
Tell me what scares, what aches and what shakes you.
Tell me the truth, don't show me the fake you,
Show me what it would take if I need to remake you.
Tell me your thirsts so that I can slake you.
Show me where your true self rests so that I can wake you.

Echt A Sect

Tell me what makes you, tell me what breaks you,
Tell me what scares, what aches and what shakes you.
Tell me all the things you've never told anyone else before.
I want to know it all - the good the bad, the chaste the whore.
I want you raw,
I want to know what hue the core.
I want to tear the sun and stars from out of your sky,
And fill your solar system with my star struck eyes.

Tell me what makes you, tell me what breaks you,
Tell me what scares, what aches and what shakes you.
Tell me the truth, don't show me the fake you,
Show me what it would take if I need to remake you.
Let me know you - inside and out,
Let me know you in flood as well as in drought.
Let me knead at, and prod, and work over your pain,
Let me re-break your bones, lest they set wrong again.

Tell me what makes you, tell me what breaks you,
Tell me what scares, what aches and what shakes you.
Tell me your thirsts so I can slake you.
Show me where your true self rests so I can wake you.
Trust me with your life, trust me with your heart,
Don't say that we will never be apart.
Words mean nothing. Give me action. Give me earth.
Give me a solid foundation to build love in the case of your dearth.

Thursday, 1 February 2018


F is for Fucking, and this acrostic poem is wholly fucked. I've lost count of all the failed attempts at writing which I have wholly stuffed. I've got a knack for self deprecating humour illegitimizing my pain, I shift the focus elsewhere so I could never be blamed.

U is for Unfortunate, which is exactly what I am. Except I'm not. My life couldn't be easier if I was running it as a scam. You ever get the feeling you're living out of place, where the person behind the mask has completely eroded everything except the face? Where nothing is left except a smile painted on the outside of a hollow empty case? I guess that's where I'm unfortunately placed - an abandoned vessel living in a lovely space, unable to appreciate or feel anything but displaced.

N is for Nothing, which is exactly what I've got. Nothing going on, Nothing friends, Nothing until I rot. I suppose SPWrites might write 'Awesome...' a lot, he obviously sees a lot of good in the world through the eyes of his Instagram bot. But what of me just a lonely hopeless miserable guy, I don't see much anymore through all the tears that cover up my eyes. I suppose it all comes back to my first point again, whatever that was, my attention span is wearing thin.

Wednesday, 31 January 2018

Pneumatic Fanatic

We'll throw some more on the pyre, pile it high, set it all on fire. I found a love that could be crushed, put in a box and burnt and turned to dust. I found a love that wasn't red, born not from a heart but from a head. I found a love that lies just long enough for us to think it dead, but then it raises itself up like Christ instead.

There's An Expiration Date On Everything & Everyone

Remember when you posted me a cassette tape of your voice? Back in those days we didn't have a choice. We thought that love was always expanding, never could it be demanding, that we would - despite all odds - be still left standing. And yet, love dies.


None of my Instagram followers bothered to turn up to my funeral. In fact, the amount of people that showed up could be represented using a single numeral. I had two thousand followers but it made my life no more endurable, and now for all my pain, my name is being washed away as if it was scrawled upon the inside of a urinal. Unusual - I thought that I would be seared into people's brains like something incurable, every single word and rhyme I wrote, I was convinced was so mercurial. But now, there I lay, just fleshy decomposing material, ready and waiting to be lunched on by something bacterial. What an outrage that there's not even an editorial, just my date of death and my name in the memorials. God I hope my life was just this game's tutorial, I'll be back, and next time I'm gunna be dictatorial.

Monday, 22 January 2018


You go from one lover to the next
It isn't so much that you want to see them all undressed
So much as it is you want them to see you whilst you're still at your best
But time is already putting your dubious charms to the test
Your life has become such a mess
That you've managed to make even your psychiatrist so depressed
That if they could they'd prescribe you death.

Friday, 19 January 2018

Play On, Euterpe

How do you draw on something so empty? The well is dry where you used to have plenty. Now you try to catch up but you're falling behind, the pressure gnaws on you and it's anxious poison seizes your mind. You've got nothing left, no fuel for the fire, no hardship or toil over which to perspire. You rake over the coals of your past miseries, concerned that you've plundered your last memories. You no longer get any sudden fits of inspiration, just a blank mind with increasingly laboured respiration.

Wednesday, 17 January 2018


I forgot your birthday yet again. I've forgotten now nine times out of ten. It's a mystery how we've even managed to remain friends. I can't even remember your middle name now and then. I turn the tv on and I see Harold and Lou, they're making music together, just like good bros should do. Harold is playing tuba and Lou is on the castanets, they're celebrating friendship, not mulling on regrets. Shouldn't we have a chance to do the same? Shouldn't we too be celebrating? But it seems we can't. For I am always failing.


This rich kid told me his life was worthless and I laughed and said "good try", as if I was going to let him convince me that he knew what it meant to want to die - to live his whole life feeling inconsolable since about the age of five. I laughed, slapped him on the back and said "high five! You almost got me, you almost had me thinking that you knew what it felt like to be deprived. You almost had me thinking you knew how hard life was to survive. You almost had me thinking you wanted to climb the tallest building and take a dive. But I see now, I see your sadness hits you like a drive-by: in and out of you faster than it took it to arrive. I'm not like you, for some of us sadness is the string through which we thread our lives - sadness to us is what it means to be alive. We overflow so much our misery archive would only fit across an external drive. Misery is for the middle aged - come back to me when you're bald, and forty-five.

That's When

I always said, "when I have my degree."
that's when I'll be free.

That's when I'll know I've made it.

So then I said, "when I start my career."
the world will know I'm here.

That's when I'll know I've made it.

And then I said, "when I get a car."
I'll go far.

That's when I'll know I've made it

Of course, "when I buy a house."
and "when I get a spouse."

That's when I'll know I've made it.

Or maybe, "when the kids all come."
I won't be so glum.

That's when I'll know I've made it.

This time I'm sure, "when I'm dead."
Reaching the end, rotting in bed.

That's when I'll know I've made it.

Leftover Christmas Ham

They're singing silent night again and all I wanna do is die. I can't escape this Christmas cheer no matter where I hide. Christmas when I'm missing you has become a dagger in my side. If you had the courtesy to leave me any other time, then perhaps it wouldn't be so stark, I wouldn't feel the need to hide. Now I'm triggered by the flashing lights, the carols and the trees - the mistletoes, the Santas, and all the wisemen three. I want to erase you but you've given me the gift, of feeling every Christmas time like a miserable piece of shit. 

Dear The Internet Sux

I'm not sure whether you guys love cats, your latest posts seem to indicate the opposite of that. You seem to have it out for them, you seem to be two horrible, angry young men.

Yours, Earn

Dear Earn,
I understand our content left you deeply concerned, let me just say that I think you're a giant piece of shit, thinking your opinion is important enough to warrant the airing of it. We would like to affirm that the only interest we have in cats is purely platonic, frankly any suggestion otherwise could only come from an armchair alcoholic, who's getting as pumped up as someone receiving a colonic. And let me tell you Earn, I find your better judgement deeply moronic, I hope you drown face first in your gin and tonic.

Love TheInternetSardonic.

Your Crypto May Be Going Down, But Take Heart - There's Nothing Lower Than Me For A Start

I was crushed but I dribbled through the machinery just the same.
I woke up, did some of the things I had to, then slept and did it all again.
I carried myself through life head bent, shoulders stooped, like a broken tent,
The poles crooked and the skin sagging down, wilting, like an unwatered plant turning brown.
I'm malnourished intellectually, I'm hitting the brakes ineffectually,
I'm turning things over and over inside my mind, but the underneath of each stone is all I ever seem to find.

Tin Roof

The intermittent creak of the tin roof, the only sound
As the sun slips in and out from behind the clouds.
The metal heats, expands, and is lost,
We sit beneath it's shade with both arms crossed.
We're staring away, anxious and soft,
like sapling twigs tying ourselves in a knot,
A hand reaches forth in a sudden spurt
of confidence defying a potential hurt.
A hand that feels so different touches mine,
Fissured, like flesh made from the side of a dime.
I breathe in, and her eyes meet mine,
Oh youth! Naïveté! You're so divine.

Send In The Tranqs

My latest works have all been trash, I'm heading for a mental crash. I'm ready to quit - tell my three followers - I'm sure they'll not give a shit. They were probably only laughing at me, taking my work, sending copies of it, saying: "Hey, look at this stupid tit!"
"He's writing about his pitiful life again, as if anyone cared one tiny bit."
"Have you seen his latest post about how he feels a massively miserable twit?"
"I'd hate to meet him in the street, he sounds such a pathetic dick, with his hipster typewriter - what a pretentious prick!"

Tuesday, 16 January 2018

Number 3

I can't help but feel like it's the end of our days
The world is floating by in a distant haze
And you keep saying it is only a phase
While I hold onto cheap memories of us, as the orange sunset turns to gray.

Tuesday, 9 January 2018

Defeat Comes Not When You're Out Of Options, Defeat Comes Through Constant Interruption

Steel framed madness wrapped bullet, streaking orange fire and black smoke into the sky. I always wanted so desperately to die, that it seems ironic that I would care so much right now that I'm alive, that I have been foiled in my one attempt to finally try. I mean, should I not simply roll over and let myself subside, fall into the earth, burrow in a rabid lunacy and cry? I don't want merely to survive, I don't want to strive, I don't want to fail, and fumble, and fight until I thrive. I just want to fly, leave you all behind and say goodbye. I've worked out now that it's not me that needs to die - it's all of you - you all need to fucking fry.

Goodbye My Love, All I wanted To Do Was Hold You Softly Like A Dove, But I Am Weak And My Body's Made Of Sludge

She is fierceness and mystery and a heat that is blistering, inescapable flickering - her light is shimmering and she draws me in like a gossamer moth with wings glistening, my heart open - listening, as if covered in ears that are prickling. But to her I'm a slug slithering, over the cold earth shivering, desperately quivering for the warmth she's delivering.

I just want to feel her heat, nuzzle her and worship at her feet, learn to live and love and lust and leap, but I am just rotten, just old, just old rotten festering meat.