In my heart I’ll always be there Dancing with you on a rooftop in Palermo Holding your hand while walking by the river Throwing that frisbee to you in the summer sun.
In my heart I’ll always be there Cuddling with you on a Sunday morning Staring into your eyes and your soul Getting lost in that starry universe.
In my heart I’ll always be there Running my fingers through your hair Feeling the light burst through me As my lips touch yours.
I guess I’m never gonna truly let you go A part of you will exist within me always And when my last step is taken And I fall to the floor of this earth I will look up to the grand sky above Feeling your love still flowing through me And I’ll remember those times of pure joy When everything was perfectly in place Hoping I could stay in that moment forever
I’m sorry, but I can’t be who you want me to be I know I’ve tried to iron out these creases To fit my circular shape into a square hole And I know how wonderful it would be to be with you To share our journey with love and laughter But the makeup of myself is something unchangeable.
I thought this time it might be different With the love of a good woman, I could become sane I could find a good job and learn to drive and flourish A regular human-being just like the rest.
But each stride forward just pulls me back And tells me the inescapable truth That I do not belong on that side of the street.
My place is here in this broken shack Lingering with the lost and lonely Finding my way in the shadows While writing this poetry.
A part of me has always known this But your kisses were intoxicating And like all starved people who get a taste of love I guess I let delusion get the best of me.
So tonight I finally recognise that this has to come to an end That the irreparable parts of my character Now break down this bridge To leave us standing on separate shores With only the memory of each other And at least knowing we tried what others wouldn’t.
But now we know, That I can’t be who you want me to be, And that’s okay.
Another night of laying there unable to sleep. Another night of watching the hours go by as dawn approached, knowing I’d face the world even more sleep-deprived than the day before. Such a situation was nothing new to me. Insomnia had been ravaging my life for years by the time I was in my thirties. It came and went, but at its worst I’d get just a couple of hours of disturbed sleep a night. Sometimes I’d get none. Slowly it would snowball out of control until my mental state was dark, depressed, and delirious. At my very worst, I would even slip into psychosis and begin to have auditory and visual hallucinations. I would be totally exhausted and broken – a pitiful wretch – and all I needed was to simply sleep to fix myself, but I would lay there each night undergoing psychological torture, totally unable to switch off and get the thing my soul was screaming for. One time I got so frustrated I started banging my head against a wall in a desperate attempt to knock myself out. That’s when I realised the severity of the disorder that was violently destroying my life.
It’s now the start of 2024 as I begin this year in this all-too-familiar way. I partly have myself to blame for it, having gone on a weekend bender in Dublin three weeks before. Whenever my routine is disturbed by drinking and late nights, I usually end up spiralling into a state of sleep-deprivation. I guess I should have accepted by now that my partying days are behind me with this paralysing condition, but it’s been hard to let go of all the fun things that filled my youth. So, here I am three weeks on, battling a disease of the mind that no one else can see and only a few can understand. Still, the start of a new year presents the opportunity to start fresh and mark out some targets. Maybe I’ll quit drinking, I say to myself. Maybe I’ll finally get this condition under control. Strict sleeping times and healthy practices. No more partying until dawn. It’s a nice idea that I commit myself to with a sense of vigour and hope. A man can always use the concept of a new year to try and start afresh; even if it’s just a temporary delusion, sometimes that’s what one needs in order to keep marching into another year of existence.
For now though I lay in my room, hiding from the outside world which seemed far too unbearable when one hadn’t slept properly in weeks. I guess it was a good place to be considering that storms had been battering the country for weeks. I couldn’t help but listen to that heavy wind and rain like I was listening to a representation of my turbulent mental state. The nearby river continued to rise as I felt a growing gloom about my life, as if a sprawling swamp surrounded me with sinister creatures lurking somewhere in the shadows. Each year life got considerably harder and I was left wondering how I’ve even made it this far without drowning altogether. I took refuge in the fact that there was obviously some sort of strength inside of me that had kept me fighting off my demons throughout the years – whether that be depression, anxiety, alienation, insomnia, or general madness. However, I didn’t feel as strong and brave as I once did, and things were only getting harder as that river continued to rise and the current got stronger. I could feel my insides shaking; my nervous system vibrating with anxiety. I wondered how the hell I was ever going to get by in this world with my mental health problems and unemployability and the rising cost of living and everything that just seemed to make being a human-being a stupidly difficult and unrealistic task.
I couldn’t let myself get bogged down in a million worries at once, so I set a step by step guide to get out of the darkness first. The first thing I needed was sleep so I focused on fixing that by staying away from booze, meditating, and having set bedtimes. It took a few days but I eventually felt able to head out and face the world. I ran alongside the flooded river; I breathed in the air; I went shopping in the supermarket for healthy foods. Slowly I started to feel somewhat like a human-being again. The next step involved the ever-present necessity of money. I needed a job after my last one decided to let me go a few weeks before Christmas. I started searching and sending out applications. As always, I looked for the most straightforward jobs possible – menial factory or warehouse roles that required you to do just a couple of repetitive tasks. That’s about all I could manage at this point. Perhaps that was my ceiling. I was an autistic daydreamer after all, and my limited capacity for work was hard to ignore when reflecting on my job history.
Although jobless, I was at least getting some income being on government unemployment benefits. It required me to attend meetings with a work coach to tell them the steps I was taking in seeking employment. My last one was at the height of my insomnia when my anxiety was through the roof, and I was unfortunate to be met with a guy who grilled me and got me to apply for terrible call centre roles in which I wouldn’t last more than a few days. This time I was better prepared and lucky enough to be met with a woman who clearly didn’t care as much about her job as the previous guy. Perhaps she too knew what a joke it all was. I sat there describing some jobs I’d applied for, as well as some vague future employment goals. She typed some things into a computer and nodded her head as I accepted my place as a misfit and liability in this society. The tedious process plodded on and eventually came to a merciful end.
I then headed back out into the streets of Nottingham city centre. I walked around and saw them all surrounding me again: the normal, civilised faces of humanity. Presentable people with careers and cars and credit scores and shoe collections. People ready to continue on along the treadmill of a normal, sane life – mortgages and marriages; security and stability. The separation from everyone else all was as strong as ever. It was a new year, but it seemed it was the same old me – wandering the world like some sort of alien that had been cast away on planet earth. Still, I reminded myself that I had a beautiful girlfriend; that I was consistently looking for work; that I was twenty hours into learning to drive. Perhaps this year would be different. Perhaps this year I’d finally smoothen and straighten out. I couldn’t help but shake the feeling that the ‘new year, new me’ optimistic delusion was taking effect once again.
I continued walking towards home until I reached the river. I stopped and sat down on a bench beside it. The water levels had dropped back down to normal and the winter sunshine twinkled upon the surface. I let myself breathe and observed the pleasant scene before me, watching a flock of birds fly along the river and happy dogs stroll along the pathway. It was a place I had experienced great peace before and, after a few minutes, I noticed that peace there in my soul once again. I felt my inner anxiety being alleviated – all the thunder inside being replaced by a loving, radiant light that had filled me before. Despite my current troubles, I knew that it was a beautiful world, and that I really did belong to it – even if I felt out of place in society. Slowly I began to accept myself and where I was in life. Slowly I began to accept that yes – it was a new year, and in reality would never really be a new me, but the best thing I could do was to nurture the part of myself that had guided me to peace and happiness before. At that moment, I made a decision to look after myself a bit better, starting by resisting an offer to go out for drinks that evening. Something inside of me said the way forward this year was as simple as that. My plan wasn’t to conquer the world, or run a marathon, or some specific goal or resolution like that – but to just treat myself with some basic kindness and gentleness. Starting from there, who knew what it would lead to. For when the storm has passed and the destruction has been cast, it seemed the best and only real thing you could do was dust yourself off, pick up the pieces, and let yourself move forward in the direction of the calming and healing light.
Who am I kidding? Trying to be an ordinary person Getting my driver’s licence A girlfriend, a job A routine.
Who am I kidding? Dressing up nicely Tidying my room And calming the fire inside.
It may be suppressed, at times Even dwindling But the spark is always there Waiting to erupt And engulf me again.
Some things are inevitable And who the hell am I kidding Thinking that there will ever be a time When I’m not wading through the sewers And being covered in all the shit That is now seeped into my soul.
I no longer wish to lie to myself Only to face the harsh light That unveils the truth I cannot escape.
Tonight I throw away the mask And stare into the mirror Beholding my scarred, scratched flesh Facing the grim reality Of my maniacal self.
I was never made to be clean I was never made to be normal I was never made to write words That are different from these.
I was made to linger on the outskirts To drift in the darkness And let my own madness Consume me totally.
This truth is unavoidable And please, do not pity me For this act of accepting who you are Gives one a certain freedom in life.
It’s the freedom of unbolting your own cage And letting yourself be unrestrained Wandering in your natural wilderness Your claws sharpened; your eyes wide.
Hear this heart sing Though you try to silence it And wish me to get in line Suppressing my spirit I shall continue to refuse For I know that sanity of yours Is slowly killing you Your tired eyes tell it all Your soul is screaming for music And I do not wish to kill my song too No conformity or career Will put an end to this As this grey world continues You’ll find me dancing within Where my song plays loud Shaking the walls and windows Keeping me thoroughly alive And no amount of knocking at the door Will cause this precious symphony To stop soaring.
It’s a Saturday evening and I’m home alone Trying to write a poem I’m listening to ambient music Looking at pretty pictures of sunsets Hoping that inspiration will strike As the words come flooding onto the page.
It’s a strange process that is hard to explain But doing this, instead of being at the bar, Well it gives me the sort of joy That one only gets when they are in touch With something spiritual and sacred.
For some reason I decided to be a writer I’ve been doing it for over ten years now Nothing has really made much sense to me Except when I’m organising words together.
School didn’t come naturally Jobs didn’t come naturally Social life didn’t come naturally But for some reason this did.
And that’s why I’m here tonight Still giving it all that I’ve got Sailing out on the sea of creative thought Lowering my net into the depths And trying to catch a big juicy 200 pound poem to take home And display on my wall.
For now it appears I’ve only caught this one Which, admittedly, isn’t my best But hey, I’m having fun Typing these words Jamming out alone On a Saturday evening.
I’ll think I’ll even crack open a beer As I keep on sailing on this sea Doing the thing which puts everything in the right place Which makes me feel like I’m on that dancefloor Busting my moves and celebrating life In all its strange joy.
Another weekday It’s 9pm again And the temptation to turn on the television And watch some crap appears.
No, I say to myself This is the time to create To write some words And share some truth.
So here I am back at the keyboard Persevering with my poems As my girlfriend learns piano.
What’s the point, I sometimes wonder It’d be so much easier to sink into a groove To find some comedy series And let my mind be numbed After a long day at work.
It does feel good, When the odd good poem comes along But too often it’s just hours Of staring at the screen Starting and deleting sentences Going around and around In your own mind Searching for that something Which you imagine no one else has ever said As you write the poem that changes the world That will cause everyone to become enlightened As the climate crisis is averted And world peace is finally announced.
In reality, you just type more words To post onto your blog To be read by fifteen people Somewhere around the world Whom you’ll never meet Or even message.
Well, look, I guess this is one more poem The third one of the evening, in fact I’m not sure if they’re any good But at least I can feel like I’ve earned An episode of The Simpsons now.
I guess I was always a little wild A little rebellious, a little reckless From a young age, I walked my own path Following the signposts of the soul Rather than the signposts of society I trusted the authority of my intuition Rather than any government or institution I still feel this way; each person must find Their own path through this wilderness If they are to find out who they truly are And get the most out of this life.
Self-direction is the way And I will never stop thinking for myself Nor settle down into some sofa Turning on a TV and turning off my mind I shall follow this internal compass to whatever end For without it, I would not have found The joy that I now store in my soul The fire that burns in my heart And the truth that runs through My words.
Open your heart up to the world You know you want to let that light flow inside To awaken your inner world with colour Radiating through your body.
It’s time for your life to really begin You can keep hiding from it And many do their whole lives But these days I know you’ve been longing To feel that energy surge through you As your eyes meet the dawn And the starry dance of the cosmos Can be seen in your smile.
Write your words Climb your mountains Drive down the highways That will take you somewhere Where your days will have renewed Passion and purpose.
Let the world invite you forward And leap into its possibility As your story becomes richer Each moment so much more vivid That heart once again full Of childhood joy and curiosity.
You know, I once met a man Who wanted to kill himself Before he did that, he thought He’d blow all his money On a final trip in Mexico He flew to that country Ate tacos, drank beer Made new friends Surfed the waves And watched the sunsets On the pacific ocean And finally he decided That his story wasn’t over.
Finally he decided that there was still joy in life By just changing his attitude and expectations And by screwing up the story He had written on a piece of paper That wasn’t really himself Just a tired old narrative That was in need of a new chapter.
There’s light in this world There will always be light in this world If only we open ourselves up to it Each day is a new birth is possible Should we learn to be a bit more destructive Breaking down those self-made walls Which have constricted our view Of an all too beautiful world That is aching for us to experience it
Another one reduced to tears And I can’t help but think Of all the broken hearts tonight Head in hands, tears on cheeks As the candles flicker beside baths And the warmth leaves the heart Swallowed up by a great sadness That seems destined to find us all At some point in our lives.
What is there to do But just try to keep it together As the shaking hand turns the tap And the face forces another smile Silently struggling through the days All of us together as our private pains Continue to fester in our hearts.
This world is a secret tragedy And when I look around all I see are broken people Fighting through the heartache; reorganising their lives Still searching for that one great love To complete what can not be completed To heal what cannot be healed.
Like moths to flame we chase a feeling That continually sears and scalds us But somehow leaves us wanting more.
I’m starting to come to the conclusion That I don’t think we were suppose to ever find it And perhaps a part of us doesn’t want to.
A part of us wants the tears to continue to pour The candles to continue to flicker And our hearts continue to ache For the strange and irresistible feeling Of being burnt in some fire That reminds us we’re alive.