This may well be my only upload today as I have a little bit of work to do, but the subject of this one has been playing on my mind a little lately, so I felt I that I should share it before I forgot about it or changed my mind about uploading it. Having recently read out some work to an audience for the first time recently (the majority of the audience being published poets, writer and academics – a bit of a baptism of fire), I felt I should use that courage to share this piece.
Quick thing, the quality of my handwriting is questionable at the best of times, but I’d been in the pub for about six hours at this point, so do forgive me for the image. Yes, I acknowledge that this one not one of the best, but I felt that an ability to hold a pen and walk for four-and-a-half hours slightly justifies uploading it.
The Blessèd Curse only comforted me,
Time I’ve forgotten is a saviour,
Feeling the safest when I could not see,
Knowing I’m at my best when I’m me or
The blackened, clouded demon inside. Though
The world is clearer when you cannot be
The man you wish to be; when the world is
Falling apart, no good sense shall you see.
Maybe the world is better in a haze,
And perhaps none of us shall see the truth;
Perhaps we should follow all the wrong ways,
Forever preserve a criminal youth.
Yes, maybe the liquid will make us see,
What, in gruesome depth, all of us should be.