Tag Archives: depression

Attack of a fearful kind


I feel so tense, it’s 3:30am

My heart is pounding through my body

An irrational fear has gripped me

I stand looking out of my window

Inhaling cold air as though it’s my last

I lay down my legs twitching uncontrollably

This will end but how? Is this THE end?

I lay listening to the radio

Thoughts whirling in and out of focus

I try to distract Myself but it’s no use

The wings of black are smothering me

It can’t be fought I can only accept it

The contract has been signed

My soul is now yours to keep

You have won the war I can no longer battle

I surrender to the devil within.

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Cyclothymia –


I wake up to an epiphany everyday, buzzing with thoughts, high on adrenaline.

Catapulted into the stratosphere with nothing more than a basket of dreams and tears of fear.

There is no come down from this everlasting nightmare.

The switch is neither on or off the fuse is merely pulsating to the beat of dread.

Desperately willing to cut the cord, hoping for nature to break my fall.

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A riddle of life


I sit in a room thinking, wondering through a maze of hysteria.

Unknown triggers and abnormal fears plague my uninspired mind.

I sit here in tears, I’ve learnt nothing all of these years.

I should have known this trap this malice despite such pity, I am still thinking about fear.

As I sit in this room, looking at a crooked path. Waiting for an offer that can’t be kept.

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The saga continues – death do us part #2


“Through the valley of death, lies a secret to be kept. Through the night of hidden secrets a lie is to be said. Whisper softly upon ones ear until this moment it was you I fear”. He woke to the sound of someone dressed in black whispering into his ear, it felt nice.

It felt almost worm and peaceful. “Is this it? Have I finally succumbed to my untimely death? Am I in hell? Am I in heaven?” Greg attempted to move he couldn’t, he attempted to scream but he couldn’t. “Stay still my fallen angel, stay still”. “What the fuck is this? Who are you?” The lady fell silent and began to stand, she was holding something in her hand, it looked like a broom. Greg instantly realised what this was. “Your a witch, that’s right your a witch who has trapped my soul in this dead body aren’t you? Listen what have I ever done to deserve this, I can’t move this excuse of a body I feel so so cold what is going on tell me N-N-Now!!”

The woman removed something from her head, Greg’s vision was disturbed from the bright lights surrounding him. “Did you speak love?” “YES WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?”….”no sorry duck I can’t understand what your saying, I’ll just finish replacing the hand towels and wash your sink out and leave you be”. Greg didn’t know what to say “A FUCKING CLEANER!?!?”. She continued sweeping the floor and placed her headphones back over her ears and began to sing “There’s a lady who’s sure All that glitters is gold And she’s buying a stairway to heaven”.

Greg decided he was loosing his shit “psychosis I’ve got psychosis, my boss always said I would have a break down…this is it”. He closed his eyes again, hoping to fall asleep and dream of something that made him feel human again.

This was to be short lived, he could hear a ruckus outside of his hospital room. “He is my husband and I demand that I see him, how am i supposed to feed my child, how am I supposed to go to work? NO NO NO I’m sorting this out…GREG…GREG….GREG they won’t let me in. Move BITCH” Greg heard an almighty crash and a female screaming for security. The double doors to Greg’s room burst open, “AWWW my man, we need to get you out of here, I know your dead but I need you to provide for us some how. I’m going to take you to the job centre and see if we can get you on the dole”. Greg was in disbelief…”I’m dead clinically at least, I can’t move and I don’t know what the fuck is happening to me, yet you expect me to visit the job centre so I can sign on?…..ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY??????”.

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The beginning of a saga….1# Death


He didn’t realise who he was the day it began, it was like every other day. Out of bed straight to the bathroom, down the stairs for a cigarette go back up the stairs, say good morning to his kid and continue into the kitchen to pour a bowl of Wheaties. Every day was the same, a routine unbroken for years. He would drop his wife off at work and continue his journey into his work. He would sit at his desk inputting numbers into a spreadsheet for eight hours then make the journey home, picking his wife up on the way.

This day…this day is different today he woke up feeling strange. He was twitchy and nervous his back throbbed with pain, as he stood his heart pounded in his chest. The more he began to think about it the further down the path of a nightmare it was. His wife took one look at him and expressed no interest in his blatant distress. “Don’t forget to pick me up from work love” “how could I forget” he declared “I’ve done it everyday for seven years”.

He began to shuffle across his bedroom searching for his bright red dressing gown, one hand placed firmly on his wrist searching for a consistent pulse “nothing” “what the fuck where has my pulse gone” he began to hyperventilate, sweat was dripping from his brow, then all of a sudden he fell to the floor with a huge crash, pulling the bright red dressing gown with him. “Babe are you ok? What was that? Babe?” His wife; now snapped out of her own mundane reality, realised something was wrong. She ran to the bedroom and that’s where she found him. He was lying in a pool of piss and sweat, shaking and breathing heavily.

“I have no pulse, my heart has stopped…but I don’t feel dead. Am I dead?” He began to sob, his wife was expressionless, she didn’t know what to say. “Call a fucking ambulance…Christ what is wrong with me” she snapped out of it and ran for the phone unbeknown the son was also deeply engrossed in his own routine of YouTube videos and a virtual reality. “Hello, ambulance please”…she still hadn’t come to terms with the idea that he was dead “umm my husband is lying on the floor he has wet himself and is shaking, he says his heart has stopped?” The was a silent pause “ok what’s your name my lover?” “It’s Ann and my…my husband is called Greg” “ok Ann I want you to lie him on his side, place two fingers firmly against his neck and tell me if you can feel a pulse” she fell to the floor, panic had began to set in, she placed two fingers against his neck as requested……”I can’t feel anything there’s no pulse”…”my thoughts exactly Ann, I did just tell you this, I can’t move and my body feels cold and frozen!” “There’s no pulse I can’t feel anything, he says he is freezing and can’t move his body?” Ann began to cry, the thought of losing Greg hurt like nothing else she had ever felt. “You can’t die Greg who is going to take me to work?” He coughed and a trickle of blood dripped from his mouth. “Really that’s all your bothered about? Your ride to work?”….”I didn’t mean it like that Greg I…..I don’t know what to do or say” “ok poppet the ambulance is on the way, I need you to begin chest compressions. Turn him onto his back clasp both hands together and begin pressing on the middle of his rib cage with significant pressure, press then release, press then release ok? Keep doing this until the ambulance arrives” “ok…sorry Greg”.

When the ambulance arrived, Ann was still pumping down on Greg’s chest. “Press and release, press and release. I always thought I would make a good nurse”. Greg lay lifeless on the floor he was still alive he was sure of it. He could see Ann, he could hear her and feel the god awful press and release. “You really think this is the time to discuss career options, I’m fucking dying and your telling me you would make a good nurse?”

The doorbell rang, Ann screamed for their son to get the door, but he didn’t hear her. “DAVID ANSWER THE FUCKING DOOR, YOUR DAD IS DEAD” David huffed and put his tablet down on the coffee table. “MUM you best not be tricking me, wait did you say dad is dead? COOL CAN I SEE?” “ANSWER THE FUCKING DOOR!!!” David walked down the tall stair case to answer the door. “HI I’m Mike I believe we have an emergency?” David looked him up and down “ummm mum says my dad is dead…..” “right take me to him” he lead Mike up the tall staircase and into his mum and dads bedroom.

“He’s dead he’s dead I can’t feel a pulse, please save him. YOU BETTER SAVE HIM”. “Ok right…” Mike put his bag onto the floor “Greg I’m Mike can you hear me?”…Greg struggled at first “y-y-yes I’m him, I’m cold and I can’t feel my body” “PLEASE DO SOMETHING MIKE!!!!” Mike began doing cpr “1,2,3,4……1,2,3,4” the room fell silent Ann and David where stood perfectly still and in shock “I’m going to have to declare it….time of dea…” Greg suddenly hunched himself forward “I’m not dead you moron I’m just so cold, what the fuck is happening to me?” Mike was unsure what to say, he had been a paramedic for nearly thirty years and had no explanation. “Look Mr we need to get you to a hospital, your clinically dead so I don’t understand how you are responding to me, let alone moving….I’ll get the wheel chair”. “Are you taking the piss Mike…we live in a flat? We have stairs…….”

With the help of David, he and Mike carried his stiff body down the tall stairs. “I can’t carry him he is to heavy….I’m going to….” Ann let out a scream Greg shuffled down each step like a sack of potatoes, he lay at the bottom of the stairs almost folded in half. “OH MY GOD GREG ARE YOU OK?”….”IM DEAD ANN OF COURSE IM NOT OK”. Mike scooped Greg up with his hands and carried him into the back of the ambulance. Ann and David entered the ambulance with them. “I’m going to be so late for work, trust you to die on a work day Greg….not cool”….”oh I’m sorry Ann, I didn’t mean any inconvenience….”. “Ok it’s a thirty minute drive to the hospital, I’ll radio through to have the crash team on standby”.

Greg lay lifeless in the back of the ambulance, occasionally muttering profanities at the driver for his sheer inconsiderate driving. They came to a stop the trolly Greg was on slid down the ambulance cab, banging into the doors. “OH MY GOODNESS ARE YOU OK?….” Ann attempted to pull Greg’s trolly back, at which point David had his phone out and was recording his dad on video. “Dad how does it feel to be dead?….this will make us so rich!” “Oh glad you have your priorities son, I really am”. The ambulance door swung open, a team of dr’s gathered to see if Greg was indeed dead. The Drs rushed Greg and his trolly into the hospital, the room was a brilliant white and smelt like dentist gloves. “Greg I am Gordon, I’m a senior dr at Hempstad university hospital”. Greg was increasingly finding it difficult to talk, it was if all his bones had become fixed in place with cement. “Gordon am I dead? What is happening to me?”. Gordon paced around the bed, poking and prodding Greg. “I just don’t understand it, you have no vitals. Your organs have stopped working, your no longer pumping blood through your veins…….you should be dead!!!” Greg looked up at Gordon “I’m sorry Gordon, I really am” “what could you possibly have to say sorry for Greg? Your a mirical your….your immortal…..holy shit what is that smell?”. Although Greg couldn’t laugh, he felt something riddling through his stiff dead corpse “as I said Gordon I’m sorry, it slipped out”.

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FEAR


I’m consumed by a darkness that embraces me like nothing else. Bruised black and blue beaten daily by my own intrusive thoughts. Constantly assessing and obsessing over unnecessary predicaments associated with a constant irrational itch seeded deep within a locked down subliminal state, a storm so violent my very core trembles with each beat. I cry wolf every chance I can get. This fear is real it has eaten me whole I can’t seem to escape it I just fucking hate it. I long for a break within the storm clouds, but with each time the storm calms I brace for a return, fearing that this time my soul will never come home, an empty structure that moves with the wind, a beacon of fear staring deep into the dark.

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Work….


He wanted nothing more than an escape, his grip on reality was slipping. His days merging into total chaos, like a whirlwind sucking him into a dark abyss.

It was Sunday night, his stomach was in knots. Another day of typing, another day sat in a room filled with fluorescent light and the sounds of people selling their souls and drowning in thoughts of horror.

“five days…Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thur….Fri….” he punches the mirror, he can’t even look at himself. Looking down at his numb fist he watched the crimson flow drip slowly into the sink “I need to escape, start again…I need my life back” he opened the bathroom door, his flat was small and in sheer disrepair. His lounge was his bedroom and also his kitchen it consisted of a singular cupboard with a microwave on top and a single mattress on bare floorboards covered in stains. It was dark and damp. The smell of death was ever present and despite several complaints to his landlord, it fell on deaf ears.

He lay down on his bed and tuned his radio to BBC radio five live as always. He felt hungry, his lips were dry and his eyes stinging from a constant migraine that never seemed to stop. He always had the radio on whilst he slept, it drowned out his thoughts and made him feel safe in the darkness. Secretly he enjoyed listening to other people’s woes, with Stephen Nolan asking “outside the box questions” in a cut throat manor. Tonight was no different to any other Sunday night, he closed his eyes laying naked on his bed. It was cold, goosebumps spread down his skinny Mal nourished body.

“I’m fed up of today’s society Stephen, Snow flakes…that is all they are. In my day I would work fifteen hours straight Monday to Saturday, I had six kids to feed and was paid £10.00 a month. Now tell me how that is fair?” The radio presenter took a long pause…”your pathetic you work nine to five Monday to Friday earning £1000 per month…and you say you can’t do it? You really are a worthless creep and you don’t deserve any better because your not capable of earning it” He took another pause “this gent is right you have to work hard and do what you need to do to live and that is it”.

The room began to spin as he opened his eyes he could see nothing but blackness, the radio was talking to him again…”do the right thing Micheal we know you are listening to us, do the right thing and contribute to our great Britain, you cannot and will not defy us. Work is the only way out. Work until you can no longer work, then you can die.

“What do you want from me…I can’t do this you can’t control me I’m a human being I’m alive…” He picked up the radio and in a blind rage threw it across the room, the sound of intermittent static filled the room…”hahaha your alive because we allow you to be alive….you work for us we own you. You will work for us until you die and there’s nothing you can do about it.

He stood up, he struggled with his balance walking towards the window, he knew how to finally escape. He climbed upon his window sill, his vision still blurry and dizzy. The room fell silent the radio was smashed to bits. He turned his head to take one last look. The cold wind penetrated his flesh, he turned to look back at what he was leaving behind.

“Fuck it….”.

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Moonlight


He woke up in a pool of sweat, his heart was racing. His pulse thumping against his neck and traveling up into his jaw.

It was still dark outside he turned and looked at his clock 04:00am the cold air clung to his chest it was suffocating him “2,4,6,8,10” “2,4,6,8,10” he began shaking his foot in time with the beating of his heart “…..breath..the Dr said….breath 2,4,6,8,10”

He got out of bed and began to pace the floor stumbling over dirty clothes from the day before, his wife turned and groaned at him as though this was a regular occurrence. “2,4,6,8,10……….2,4,6,8,10” the pacing continued his pulse throbbing up into his ears, the thumping gets louder “get out….get out…..I don’t need you or this anymore”…

He gripped his head with both hands and began to claw down his face “stop looking at me, stop it”.

“2,4,6,8,10…2,4,6,8,10…..2,4,8…no…2,6,10 arghhhhhh no, for fuck sake stop it get out of me stop looking at me” this time he was left with no choice he had to do the only thing he could….screaming at the top of his voice the pain the pitch the energy…..he clawed the first one out slowly wedging his index finger deep inside the socket like a hook in a fishes mouth, 2,4,6…arggghhhh” squealing in pain like a pig going to slaughter. his wife jumps out of bed “oh my god….what have you done babe…..BABE”….he didn’t answer.

As the room fell silent shock had struck hard they stood together hearts racing “2,4,6,8,10….2,4,6,8,10”.

I had them both now.

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Radio


You think your so sophisticated
But I just think it’s cheap

Hold onto that desparate moment
Your ready for the heap

Whsipering words that fool us
Trapping us in the deep

It takes a psychopath to know this
Your leading us like sheep

Destitute but moving foward
dawn cannot become morning

Theres no place for this nonsense
Your scared now it’s just boring

I have seen it in your eyes
You where the one who never cries

So don’t play me like a radio
Don’t play me like a radio

Put me out my missery

A drip dropping to the ground
Forgetting where I am

Holding onto what I can
Shhh don’t make a sound
The monsters are trying to get me

Blacked out eyes
Preaching lovers lullabies
Scorched amber skies
Taking over, haunting me
Sad sad times
Turning sober I know it’s over
Your playing me like a radio
Your playing me like a radio
Your play—ing me like a rad—-io

You think your so sophisticated
But I just think it’s cheap

Theres no place for this nonsense
Your scared now it’s just boring

It takes a psychopath to know this
Your leading us like sheep

But I’ll keep walking
I’ll keep walking
Walking till your over me

Blacked out eyes
Preaching lovers lullabies
Scorched amber skies
Taking over, haunting me
Sad sad times
Turning sober I know it’s over
Your playing me like a radio
Your playing me like a radio
Your play—ing me like a rad—-io

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