Today will be the last day

That I get used as a doormat 

I have made mistakes

I have socially checked out

& I have met karma too many times

This week alone...

For the foreseeable future

I am busy

Busy being sat at home

Don't call

Don't text

Don't bother

Because

I won't pick up the phone...

To call this season... Summer

We may require the sun

But remember we're in England

Down the road

The water runs

A cup of tea

Inside a blanket

& listening to the downpour

This English summer was here for a day

Teasing you with some warmth

& then the weather switched 3 times

& that was just before you'd had lunch

Yeah, yeah I'm loving the weather

& your sarcasm

Thanks a bunch

How do you know 

That I’m real?

How do you know that

I’m not AI generated

On the ‘internet’

But

Even If you have

Met me

Are you even real?

My cheeks are sore

Soaked with tears

I’m living each second

But my minds not here 

Blank face and have little care

Feeling suicidal

Motivation stripped bare 

I held onto the thought of us

I held onto our friendship

& the fact that we considered each other

Family

You were my best friend 

& my brother

We could be ourselves

Around each other

We wouldn’t judge

But once I’d met

The real you

Fucking hell

It all made sense

You’re the worst human being

I’d ever met

& I’m glad our ‘friendship’

Is in the past tense

I’d love to create a portrait

Of myself

But it would be abstract

It would be my mind & soul

Splattered on a page

3d, 4d

You’d hear bizarre sounds

You’d feel the flush 

Of my cheeks

& you’d feel a cat

On your lap 

Because a basic portrait

Has never been further from

My vibe

When our lips touch,

my heart explodes,

Passion whirls around the room.

The rain on your windows,

Under the duvet,

Body goals.

I'm in love with you,

It's time to watch our life unfold.

Falling for you harder

every time you say my name

No matter the distance our feelings stay the same

Your laugh and your smile

Will always fill me with glee

I don’t think you realise Kieran 

How happy you’ve made me

Being a writer is...

Writing on the back of receipts 

It’s crumpled drafts

Bus tickets

Half a poem written

But...

In four different inks

I could have sworn

This pen worked yesterday 

But the universe is trying to stop me

Connect the dots

Connect the links...

There’s a lot of pressure 

to fit into a box

A box that’s too small

A box that you must lose weight to get into

Or a box that you have to fit in perfectly but it’s too big

And will fit a family of four in 

A box that you have to get through security to enter 

No tattoos 

No piercings 

Blonde hair 

Big boobs 

A job that’s considered acceptable 

Your hobbies should consist of 

Yoga or Zumba 

And slimming world 

You should complain about your husbands and how tired you are and how your kids are just being trouble recently…

You constantly lose your temper and your husband escapes at any opportunity possible because a simple shopping trip or even watching TV just consists of stress…

Why would I want to live that way? 

Why should I fit into your box? 

Shaved legs

Matching underwear

Makeup & washed hair

Is not a sign that a

Woman loves you

Try a messy bun

A stained t-shirt

& prickly legs

Bad breath

Morning sex

Stopping in the middle

To fart...

That’s what real love is 

It upsets me to think 

That people look to religion

For answers 

Instead of the inner voice 

That they label as 

‘God’

When in reality

The gut feeling

The voice that they hear

The ideas

Are all their 

Gut feelings

And egos 

So instead of praying

To a so-called ‘God’

Please

Listen to yourself 

First

Codewords

Rambling

Talking shit

Or am I?

Am I a villain...

Or a am I a genius?

The groups of men 

Smoking outside 

The coffee shop 

Gold cigarette ends 

Leave a trail

Stained ash trays

Red chairs

Sugar packets soaked

Drowning 

In ignored

Last gulps

Abandoned

Wonky tables

Damp

At an angle

Toastie packets

Cheese tangled

Ham, cold

Rejected & recycled

By the birds

But the cigarette butts 

Are digesting

In the poor birds’ guts

Apparently

There are two brains

In our bodies

One in our head &

One in our gut 

It’s where our gut feeling comes from

I see it as one of our senses

See

Smell

Taste

Hear

Touch

Gut feeling...

Support your local jester

Support your local theif 

Support your local tree

Support your local leaf

Support your local druggie

Support your local Chinese

But don’t support the government 

Or those that cause you grief

Support your local poet

The one who holds a pen

Don’t support the government 

I must repeat again

Support your friends 

& their dreams

Back them at all costs

Support the local businesses 

& those that you love lots

I think my calls 

Are recorded

My whereabouts are tracked

I think my details are saved

I’ve probably been hacked

It doesn’t help that I talk

About things that may make you sick 

But to me I find it interesting 

How other people think

I’d like to get some inspo

It’s only for a book

Let me get on with life

& continue to do some research 

I am not a psycho 

I won’t commit a crime

Us writers would never do such thing

We’d never find the time

I am so hungry 

For not just food

But the warmth of your lips

On my cold cheeks

I am hungry for your love

& your body

Pressed against mine

Exchanging heat 

I am so hungry for when

Your fingers run through my hair

Whilst our limbs intertwine 

& our eyes meet

I am hungry for you

Like a wolf is for a sheep 

I am hungry for you

& my God

You look tasty enough

To eat

With this many blocks

I might as well

Build a house

I like writing

The word ‘Love’

I like the flow

Of the ‘L’ and the ‘O’

It’s just a beautiful word

To write

We need more love

In the world

& if I could spread it 

By writing the word

A million times

Well

I would just love it...

I think love is the best emotion

& much deeper than people realise

When you really love something

Or someone

You’ll understand people’s fascination

With worship & religion...

Real love will make you commit crimes

It will give you tunnel vision.

The next time someone tells me

“I love you”

I want them to prove it

I want them to kill for me

The gentle purring and buzzing 

Right next to my ear 

Fish of different kinds

Much tamer

Swimming near

The statement about their memory

Is simply just a myth 

As soon as they see us

We give them a little lift

Beef hearts & blood worms 

Splash into the tank 

They all come out of caves 

& click & eat

So loud

But the loudest part

Is not actually the fish

It’s the filter under my pillow

Humming & purring 

Sort of like white noise

It makes me piss.

You will never see me angry…

Just sad

My therapist says it’s because when I was a baby

And I was screaming to be fed

No one came to help

subconsciously I gave up shouting

Avoided conflict and fighting

Stopped asking for help

Pushed aside how I really felt

Solitary confinement is unlawful 

For more than 72 hours

But try feeling abandoned since birth

No one can hurt me anymore because it will never be as bad

As what I’ve experienced before

Awakening me from

A deep slumber...

You’d think it would

Be a cat 

Paws & sounds 

And jumping 

From the windowsill

To my back

But this rude awakening 

Doesn’t meow

Or nibble my hair

The brightness & the heat

Usually come as a pair

Oh, the light!

Her presence is made

I’m awake much earlier

Than I seemed to anticipate

It’s cold out here

I want to start bringing blankets

Wherever I go 

But what if others judge me?

How old is too old 

To want to be back inside

Your mothers womb?

He sits in the same seat 

Every morning

He orders the same coffee 

& makes the same jokes

Expects you to bring it to him

With good service and a smile

At first 

We all greeted him 

Politely 

Until

One by one 

He made our stomachs

Churn 

Dirty comments

& innuendos 

Stares from across the room

No

I don’t work in a pub 

And he is not a drunk

Its 8am

In a coffee shop

& my body is 

Covered up

My flow was dead

Resurrected Jesus

I bowed my head

& prayed

Forgive me Lord

For I have sinned

But this masterpiece

Is on the way

Please

I pray 

Please

Ignore 

The many drafts

I have binned

He came to me

& he blessed the book

Gave me his word

& he made me shook

I looked at him 

In disbelief

I said his name in vein

I swore Jesus

Then handed him a pen

So we could write free verse

I let my cup of coffee go cold

It shakes with every stroke of a pen

A chocolate chip from a biscuit dip

Looks lonely

Floating around the edge of the cup

I tip the cup

& swirl it

The chip follows

like a sheep

Is this chocolate chip supposed to represent me?

Why am I alone in a pool of cold coffee?

Is this what could happen if I don't seize the day?

This is what's happening isn't it?

My coffee is getting cold

My window of opportunity is shrinking 

Stop watching television

Pick up a pen & finish book 3

When people describe their dream holiday

A beach is never far

Sun & sea & alcohol 

Benidorm or Malaga 

I’d much rather a city break

While exploring on my feet

I want to see the buildings 

Especially those made of concrete 

Architecture makes my eyes go wide

It’s something I’ll always seek

Because 

I’d choose brutalist buildings

Over the beach

Any day of the week...

I don’t know what started me off crying 

This morning.

I don’t know what it looks like outside

Wiping tears and drinking water 

Trying to remove the headache

I need to call my Nan today 

But I’m crying 

And she will be crying 

And we will end up crying together 

But I’m exhausted of holding it together 

For other people 

For all the family that are grieving

And mourning 

And I’m there handing out tissues 

Hugging them 

Telling them it will be okay.

If I was selfish I’d of killed myself a few months ago 

But the last thing this family needs is another death

So I wipe my tears 

And practise a smile in the mirror 

I trace my acne on my cheeks

Red raw

And sore 

And get ready for another day 

Of smiles.

You’ve got to be cruel

To be kind

A mother with

Pent up anger

Because she received a

Mother’s Day card

A day late...

She repeats that she will

Give them a taste of their

Own medicine

She’ll forget their birthday

Because it will suit her

As they’ve made their bed

And laid in it

I hope she never has to deal 

With the pain of losing someone

Because a shitty card 

Is nowhere near as important

As someone’s life

I don’t like having a Saturday off

Because on my days off

I write in coffee shops 

But on a not so quiet Saturday

It is tough

Don’t get me wrong

People watching is nice

But weekends are not relaxing 

In a public space

Don’t trust anyone who says

Otherwise

It’s an anxiety inducing 

Paranoia poking

Loud mess

With a sprinkle of kids crying

I’d rather be at home

My posture reflects 

How I feel

Socially

Curved round

Into a ball

Hiding

From you

Them

Everyone...

Socially is especially 

Tough...

I’d do anything 

Not to be seen 

Or start a conversation

Let me waste away

In the peace & quiet 

Preferably in a dark

Silent coffin 

Loose potatoes 

Opposite Hello Kitty notebooks

Twenty seven different flavours

Of bleach

Rose gold clutter with matching 

Photo frames

Motivational quotes 

& common cliches 

Live, laugh, love

Keep calm & carry on...