Tag Archives: style

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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Big issue sir?



Watching people that is all I do

Confused about what it is they go through

Your dumped, it is me not you –

What should we have for tea?

I am hungry…

Hungry for attention

But no one sees my needs

They will shop in marks and Spencer

Then eat their McDonald’s

They smoke cigarettes

Buy clothes, spend, spend and spend

I ask “hello my friend, big issue?”

They look and laugh

I smile trying not to look sad

Is what I am doing really that bad?

I want nice clothes

I need a new pair of shoes

I work hard asking these people

But despite refusal I am still willful

My life depends on it

You see my dear public eyes

I am from another country

Black and red fiery murder

Contemplating eventual escape

Crying for mercy, bludgeoned and scorned

My people, my people are dead.

So here I am –

A doctor of medicine begging to be fed

Your judgmental eyes and

Convicting smiles

Do not give me the bread I need.

The bread to live –

Bread to eat

Savage creatures creep up instead

I am angry, alone and dying

Dying within a society that does not care

For this I will carry on

Maybe someone will care.

Along comes a lady

I smile while she flicks her blonde hair

Approaching fast she holds out her cash

Tonight I shall eat but; tomorrow I’ll be back on my feet

Big issue sir?

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Forgotten- tomorrow.


Yesterday clenched my doubtful spirit with the will of ten thousand men

Fighting to gain control of my unconscious mind – willing to sacrifice my very beliefs within the true meaning of what it is to be human.

Without asking for much, I was presented with the gift of wisdom – I took it from the withering hands of tomorrow and ran.

Without stopping to turn around, I felt no shame from that I call withering – instead I followed a path called destiny.

It leads nowhere but the view is nice

Enjoying the run of wisdom and avoiding the concept of tomorrow.

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A connection of interactivity


Savouring my insight
To tell you, your all wrong
Would be rather beautiful.
But as it seems neither
Me nor you is wrong
On the outside we look
Different, on the inside
Well, that’s another story.
You see we are all the same
Just on different levels of
Understanding.
I like things that
You don’t like
And you like things
That I don’t like.
Right?
No.
It is much more than that
We are all connected somewhere
Be it with life or faith
And those that don’t have faith
Are connected some how differently
Love
Friendship
Miss fortunate events
School
Bully
It doesn’t matter
A connection of interactivity
Is there, which makes us
The same.
Equals in an unfair society.
Fuck it
I don’t care.

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