It’s not that I don’t want to be the very best that I can be, it’s just that lately there seems to be a serious lack of motivation in my life. I don’t have the bounce in my step that everyone really does need to have. Having come out the safer side of a severe mental health issue, I’m nowhere near thankful enough to the Gods, or whoever it was, whatever it was that pulled me away from the seemingly never-ending pain. I’m resting on my laurels at a time in my life when I should be reaching for the stars, absolutely. Okay, maybe I do have some sort of an excuse in that for the most part of my young life I have suffered from OCD – the kind that doesn’t include physical acts of repetition but rather mental ones, mental ones wherein I have felt for a long time the dire need to convince myself that everything will be alright. Of course, this is an impossibility for any one person, but there is perfection-seeking and then there is this, and 4 months inside of a psychiatric ward a couple of years back doesn’t even come close to delivering to you the level of agony my mind has had to endure. Twenty years of comstant anxiety, an overriding belief that all was not well with the world even when it may well have been may just be what horror movies are made of. My friends didn’t really get it, heck, I didn’t really get it. But now I’m walking away from it I still seem to unable to stop and take awhile in remembering just how Goddamn far I’ve come. How lucky I am to be right where I am. Yes, it’s a fairly well known, documented fact even that I want to be a writer – a well known writer in both this country and further afield, but I also need to find a job, any such job, because otherwise I end up pissing about the place far too much, smoking a ridiculously amount of those ghastly cigarettes. Addiction’s addiction, but if I was somehow able to quit OCD, a far greater beast, mentally and physically, then why should I not be able to quit the cigarettes? Because, as I say, I am sitting all too dangerously on my laurels. There’s a recession, has been for a few years now, but I cannot let that be any excuse either. Excuses build up and make a mouse out of a man. I must find out what it is that really drives me, what are my goals and heady aims in life and how on earth do I go about succeeding as such? Take a breath and blow that Goddamn candle out once and for all. That way there’ll be many more celebrations to come.
- Setting herself UP for a bUrSt of Flame(!) Against the CANvas
- Captioned Happiness . You **** with them and you **** with momentum
- Contacting Neverland Again.
- Pulped Descriptions of Next Week’s Reprobate$. When they did this on a gas tank full of “Leave Me DaFuQ Alone!”
- From Hero~to~zero – “yes, please, for utterly exceptional MedIocRitY.” Celebrating the Sensational for the sake of SomeThing Irreparably Amazing (!!!)”
- ~ ~ marked for BlueBird Status it Seems . A thread between he and they and we and she.. and anyone else with a PuLsatInG heartbeat
- Aiming for the utterGutter.. and finding the widestOfRange Imagined (.)
- ~On the Double
- Settled sAluTaTiOnS
- One person’s Sense of ScRiBbLe is Another’s heart~aching happiness actually .
- Understanding the need for Speed
- The Penalty Shootout inside of their mInDs
- Abandoned tRaGedIeS.
- ~ Nearer to the Agreeable Distribution of People.
- The TypeTracks Of A Supernatural Life Perhaps.
- Strangers in ParaDICE — happyheaded and Utterly UnSettLeD . Like a candle, she feeds the fLaMe
- Interviewing the Devil’s BestFriend
Utter WoRlD throUgh a coined and CottoningON catchphrase))
- The theory of taking it all away
- “Impossible to WhO(?!?)”
- 1983 . Before and after Orwell
- That final moment Right Before Greatness . That fundamental state of leading the PiGs to the MarKet and Pissing AllOver ThE Baker’s Cakes While we’re at It .
- The Smile That Held ItsOwn
- ‘Belligerent bastards and their nose dive for survival’
- Stylised Surroundings .
- A complicated Creation
- Laugh, whisper… and ScReaM(!!) There’s Your SeeSaw Of Guffaws Set For Survival
- Filtered feelings
- “Causing a constant state of irreparable CreAtiOn, maybe(?)”
- A makeshift pen at the corners of her BEST~brain
- “Let’s Swim.” Like gin&ToNiC superHeroes
- RaaaaaaaaGing Bulls of Ethiopia
- -No Country For Creation
- Dedicated to Silencing the loudest mind Alive ~ “that thing called complete comprehension”
- Compliments aWrY
- Pressurised insides sInG iT so silently sometimes.
- The words were hiding UP~stairs all along – inside of their mesmerised minds, and bum~crawling back to life.. One Butt~Cheek At A Time
Copyright © 2022 poetart. All rights reserved.