Fed Up & Fucked Up
Life often gets this way.
Nothing is exactly wrong
and things have certainly been worse
yet here it is once again.
That ache that makes you choke
upon your apathetic self.
That drumming echoing in your soul.
The emotional scar tissue, smouldering
as your thoughts darken pitch.
A mine-field of mental question marks???
Ghosts from the past swarm
to lie and trick you into believing
that the future is merely the past
with different actors each time.
The only constant is You!
Ah, feel the shadow thickening
you’ve been here many times before,
the Prison Warden is calling you home.
It’s tempting to just fall and float
like a kite without a string
back down those murky corridors of familiarity.
Snap: you break the spell, feel the give
you are in control of everything.
Up onto your feet, slowly boy
smile for no reason and about nothing.
My money’s on you, as always
the light at the end of the tunnel
is merely the reflection of your heart.
You have come far, learnt the hard way
but always learnt well
your pat on your own back can wait
but it’s coming, it really is.
Just surviving is today’s battle
and you just took a left field corner
with that great and fantastic smile.
Paul Tristram is a Welsh writer who now lives on the Southern coast of Britain, has poems, short stories and sketches published in many publications around the world, he yearns to tattoo porcelain bridesmaids instead of digging empty graves for innocence at midnight,
this too may pass, yet.