Sun Beaming

There’s more to life now

I’m experiencing more

enjoying more

living more

and I hate to sound so positive

I truly do

but it’s true

the world is starting to feel fresh

brand new

I’m reborn

a naive foetus breathing for the first time

there’s a thirst within me

one I cannot contain

it comes out in moments of happiness

moments of pain

and it will not rest

not until I take my final breath.

I am content

I am content

I am content.




whoever I’m meant to be writing to

this is far too confusing for me to try and understand

they say I’m ill

I feel healthy

it’s a constant tug of war between my dreams and my reality

I can’t decide who should win

who deserves to win

but…anyway, was what I saying?

I’m writing again

brushing the dust off the page

in the hope the words haven’t faded.

Who am I kidding?

I’m just as useless as before

except I’m full of fake confidence.

I preferred it when I was addicted to drugs

dependant on chemicals

dependant on a sensation

a fool alive in the dying world.

I miss it

can’t lie

won’t lie


I hate who I’ve become

I hate who I was


can I just shut up

sew my mouth


close the curtains

lock the doors

write a letter to the world

explaining my absence

why I’ve run



there really isn’t much left to say

I don’t know why I bothered

no one’s patient enough to read

or bored enough to analyse

these words rest.

Empty pages bleed

as whoever I’m meant to be writing to

closes their eyes and sleeps.

Addiction’s Passing

I’ve quit

quit it all

and my verses have worsened

my head aches

and my soul pangs for a pinch of some-sort of excitement.

What a mess.

I’m getting better

I tell myself; I’m getting better you know

I’m getting better-

lies, I’ve never been able to stop

once I start

I start

and nothing ends

so, quitting, it felt like the easiest option

to run away from the stress

the addictions

the headaches

once they’re out of view, it’s as though they never existed


content in the knowledge I’m no longer at war with myself.

We Start Again

I can’t remember a time in my life

where I’ve felt extreme happiness or excitement

or felt as if my breath held purpose

I wouldn’t call myself depressed

I would call myself a realist.

The truth burns a hole into the back of my skull

I cannot ignore it

and why would I?

Enjoyment comes from freedom

freedom comes from enjoyment

and I’ve experienced neither.

Word of Peace in the Sheets of Yesterday

There’s something brewing in the depths of my soul

it burns

my soul’s burning

something’s happening


happiness. I feel happiness coursing through my veins

is this real?

Reality doesn’t seem to cross my mind

but when it does, it’s here for a great amount of time

I’m in shock

only yesterday was I planning on ending my life

now life, it’s starting

who’s dream am I stuck in?

What sick joke? I hate to be the punchline.

Things, they’re looking up, down but up nonetheless.