"Real Life is Cliques and Clubs"

Life is the slammed-in-face, then double-locked door.

You’re surplus to requirements.

We don’t need you any more.

It’s an endless series of cliques and clubs -

exclusive, not inclusive -

and does your face – and body – fit?

If not, kindly forget it.

Thou shalt not be no fun,

which isn’t so easy

when you’re dying inside,

and hardly ever leave your home,

through no fault of your own.

It’s all just cliques and clubs –

and if you’re in, you’re in –

and if you’re not, then tough.

“Real life” is all just cliques and clubs.

"Care in the Community"

It’s not down to psychiatric staff,

who won’t help the suicidal.

It’s not down to the system,

forcing her to work - and not be “idle”.

You can’t start blaming the GPs,

who won’t provide home visits.

If she is ill, it’s her own fault –

for if not hers, whose is it?

It was not down to her family,

or so-called “friends”, who claimed to care.

Of course she could have talked to them

about her deep despair.

They wouldn’t have called it “attention-seeking”.

They wouldn’t have ignored her.

Her blood is not upon their hands.

To suggest as much, is out of order. 

"Return of the Travelling Funfair"

Nothing much, then

Just some abstract link

In my mind

With a passing funfair here

One that returned recently

How could you understand

I don’t expect it

And yes, I feel rejected

I understand

That abstract can never compete

With tangible

Shared memories

But maybe to me

It’s everything

That time – this time –

Anniversaries, like a carousel

Of dreams, that expired

And pass by, unnoticed

But not by me

"Not Valued"

We lost the naturalness and regularity –

the rhythm, cadence, and the melody.

It’s how almost every friendship

in my life, will

ultimately be.  It’s sad

that friends so rarely value me

the way that I do them.

"The Shift"

The shift is there

It’s clear to see

It can never be the same

Much less

Shift in the direction

That would have worked

For me – my dream

I can’t uncare

There’s nothing to be done

And so I stay

Yet pull away

And my broken heart beats on

"The Final Letting Go"

It has to come –

the final letting go –

and there’s a peace

that one day has to show

itself – a faint light –

and the memories

will just be beautiful,

and help to ease

this pain.  I’d rather leave

before it all breaks down.

"Never Trust Again"

Always, somehow, I will be excluded. 

Never again, will I become deluded. 

It wouldn’t have taken much:

A word or two can change everything,

light up the darkness in another’s soul.

 

I hope for more

each time,

but always,

it turns out to be a lie,

and I am left alone, to cry.

I am always on the outside –

the one excluded.

My “life” will never change,

and I will never trust again.

"Depression, Fiction and the 'Real World'"

If it wasn’t for my characters,

I would have given up long ago.

I can’t survive in your so-called “real world”.

Mine is the only one I know.

I don’t exist in “real life”.

I’m nobody there – no-one at all. 

My characters live inside my mind,

and trust me with their lives – their secrets. 

I know them.

I know almost no-one at all,

in so-called “real life”.

People only want to judge. 

I don’t belong here at all. 

Depression is closing in on me,

and most days, I can’t even write a thing -

but I won’t give up,

because I can’t.

Yet, I wish I could. 

If all there was here was “real life”,

I know I would give up

right now. 

"Haunted Doll"

You view me as inanimate.

Yet, look into my eyes.

Touch my skin – cracked porcelain.

Can’t you see through my disguise?

First, I’ll play with your possessions.

Then, I’ll move on to your mind. 

I’ll haunt you, even in your dreams.

I am sweetness redefined. 

I only crave attention.

Let me out of my glass case -

if you dare – don’t think I’ll murder

you, in your sleep.  With my pretty face,

what’s not to trust, anyway?

I only want to play. 

"Alone in Reality"

When the pain, in my body and mind,

is excruciating;

when multiple fears

overwhelm me,

and the world is

rapidly closing in –

that’s when I thought

the people

who told me they cared

would be there.

In my time of need.   

Yet, most disappear. 

They run from my fear,

won’t stay through my tears. 

What does that mean?  Signify?

That none of them ever cared?

I am alone and abandoned:

That is my

reality.

"They Never See"

I think it’s sad, what they can never see.

Silence - its own screaming testimony –

shows ultimately, what they think of me. 

I care until there’s nothing left,

and then –

maybe some drama; or, perhaps –

just to drift

slowly

apart.

Things turn out as they do: That’s destiny. 

I still think it’s sad

that they never can see,

or maybe just don’t care

that they are losing me. 

"IRL"

Do I exist at all?

All seems unreal - surreal.

Of course, no-one can ever know

exactly how another feels.

Is anyone or anything

tangible - for real?

Am I real?

Do I exist at all?