Tag Archives: Lost

Sticky, Stuck

My mind is sticky, stuck,

That’s the tricksy part of luck;

To have these thoughts, these needs,

and to never set them free…

They do not know me yet

– closet hyperbolic wreck –

(See, they still think I’m sane

and I still play their games),

But my mind is sticky, stuck,

My lips are melted shut

while my heart growls, stomach screams,

and an earthquake rips my seams.

Black Dog’s pulling on his lead;

A hungry, rabid fiend,

Must let the right ones in

to this naked sideshow of my sin,

But my mind is sticky, stuck,

Disconnected, out of touch,

And they will see the cracks set in,

Watch through translucent skin,

See my insides turn to ash,

Watch me stutter, jerk, and thrash,

But they’ll never do enough

to get my sticky mind unstuck.




I was not involved in #NaPoWriMo (now #GloPoWriMo) last year, and while I can’t commit to the whole 30 days, this year I may dip in and out….

Here’s a poem about choice:


There is a door
at the end
of the hall,
Shut tight.
It is not locked,
but jammed
with fear.

How did I end up here?

I press an ear
to the wood,
I think I could,
I think I should,
But is an open door
really freedom?
Or just the beginning
of a razor edged wall?

Will I fly?

Will I fall?

Should I sacrifice it all
for possibility?
Or is that naive of me?
In reality the
shades are grey
And so I stay
For now…
Better the devil
you vowed
to know.

Lost {mind dump}

I am lost.

Not like the TV series… although the parallels are undeniable; I am a viewer, a mere spectator, of my life. I’m watching the confusing twists and baffling turns of the plot, trying to figure out what has led to this point, and what else is in store. I start each episode with bated breath, which is then forcibly expelled through snarling disappointment as the story becomes more incredulous; impossibly complicated. It leaves me, at each cliffhanger, with more questions and fewer answers than the previous instalment.

It’s nearing the end of the series and I find myself yelling at the screen as I reach the unsettling and frustrating conclusion that the writers are out of ideas; that they’ve simply given up; that there’s nothing better to come. No catharsis, no life changing epiphany; just resounding ‘what ifs’ and blinding regret. It’s a final ‘f*** you’ to me; the ever loyal but now disgruntled viewer who invested time, who had to keep watching in spite of the continual disappointment. They reeled me in they promised me things. They gave me hope, and then they cast me aside, bereft. Empty. My life is empty.

I am lost.

And in my displacement I’ve become a hermit inside my thoughts; I hear the world around me, I see it, I walk in it but I don’t live in it. Not anymore.  I’m disconnected. Unplugged. I don’t even recognise my reflection anymore. Who is that pale skinned husk blinking at me? I don’t like her. She makes me want to stay in here. They say that the mind can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven. They say no man is an island, but I am a castaway in a cerebral sea and the solitude of my musings are divine. By contrast, the tumultuous uncertainty of her reality is unappealing. By contrast, she looks like hell.

I am lost.

But I’m not sure that I even want to be found. Would it be so bad if I never came back? My alter ego, my cover story, is doing an adequate job of maintaining the look of normality; a sufficient semblance of sanity. Maybe I’ll just leave her to it. Besides, it’s warm in here, comforting; nobody lies, nobody cheats, nobody disappoints, or angers, or blames. In here, I suppose, I’m not really lost at all.

In here I am me.

In here I am free.