I shut my eyes as it hurts me to keep them open.

One day I will bare my soul on the silver screen.

A metaphor

As this wicked and wild weed intensifies my lungs, the mind escapes into a horizontal parallel. Childhood memories enter the inner thoughts as contemporary life probs the blood stream causing me to reflect on this wicked and wild brew. Exotic pastures feeding the mind. I smile as the dub beats make my eyelids flutter. I adjust the headphones and set the groove, ready for the flex. The crowd, a mass of energy, waiting for the break, a synthetic vibe, joined in a moving unison. Paranoid illusions enter my consciousness as I think back to the deal of this wicked and wild herb. “Special” he called it, but what was so special about it? Had it been soaked in Columbian finest? Poison causing me to stress and sweat, as I ponder on these thoughts a smile from the crowd. T –shirts, trainers and caps, an urban uniform, expensive garms and cheap aftershaves. I find myself smiling back then realise that the record has finished, i’ve missed the mix. I hitch up the tune and call for the rewind. The MC smiles, getting the crowd moving again, waiting for the drop, no one seems to mind as this wicked and wild feeling seeps from the exhale, just waiting for the next fix.

I check my watch as the seconds speed up.
My medicated state of mind blurs reality and transforms the things I see.
I put on my headphones and press play.
A 170 bpm kick drum pounds my inner thoughts.
As the rhythm syncs up to the words in my mind, it becomes the soundtrack to my life.
I close my eyes and the sun beats down on my brow through the train windows.
As I shut my eyes I pretend that people can’t see my ugliness as I can’t see them.
I begin to dream of my new found item as the 170 bpm vibrates around my skull.
The cold steel against my hot temple.
Sweat trickles down my face and gently enters my mouth.
The salty taste reminds me of summer holidays with seaside fish ‘n’ chips.
This chrome against my dome and the 170 bpm rhythm of the street.

MY REFLECTION MAKES ME SAD.

As each hour and day seeps by, I am further removed
from what I wanted to become.

The old house felt safe, but not at the start. I had to listen to music in my headphones to drown out the thoughts. Sleep is all I looked forward to, as it stopped everything else. I rarely dreamed, or dared to. I think I used them up during my woken state. The meds helped. My mind pounded with imagey, everything had a meaning and was intense. I hated the bathroom or my bedroom. I thought that there were cameras connected to the Internet or something. I used to get undressed or dressed in the dark. After awhile I began to grow stronger and turned the house into an adventure or a game, with who or what i’m not sure but it was the only way I knew to win over my mind.

The most important thing I have to remember
is that people don’t see things how I see things.

I am the director, the city was my mind.

How do some people see the tunnel?

Why do some people ignore the tunnel?

Why do some people never get out of the tunnel?

– the tunnel is life’s secrets unlocked.

I WANT…

People to stop looking at me
My family and friends to live forever
An around the World ticket
Clear thoughts
To direct a film
To feel the sun on my face
To be an artist
A cure for my own peace
A steady income
To walk along a Beach while its snowing
To stop worrying

I’ll keep taking photographs, making designs and writing until someone sees my potential and believes in me, but if i die undiscovered than so be it.

I have a brain like a snow shaker, still, silent, waiting.
Disturbed only when someone picks it up.
But then it slows down again when left alone.
It remains still, silent, waiting, until the next time.

life is full of waiting moments.

Never turn your back on the fading sun,
and always aim for the light.