Untitled....

Would be climbers from dark deep places; clawing, kicking, pushing, pulling, dragging,
Fighting in vain to get out of the depths.

Ears full of cloudy black cotton wool silence.
Brain screeching popping yelling , swooshing screaming, never ceasing,
violently ripping and yanking at the peace.
Mouth fear smog dried.
Throat choked with some kind of filthy itching soot.
Head hurts, night frights, shaking hands, heart pounds; sad and threatening memory ghosts.
Can't quite touch, bitter tears, no one hears, restless dreams and terrible things .
Psyche soaring, wailing screeching,
a lonely single jaded gull forever circling and seeking in the empty wastes of night.

Would-be climbers from dark deep places; clawing, kicking pushing, pulling, dragging,
looking for the light.

Day breaks. Ghosts fade. Heart slows.
Hardly glimpsed treacherous hope filled dreams
escape through desperate air clutched fists.
Drum kit in head playing way too loud. Feel a bit sick. Tongue all furred.
Lids puffy, eyes blurry, hardly seeing
Joints really hurt -
must be getting old.
Bathroom beckons; wash it away.

Mask on. Barriers up.
Eat, drink, walk , talk, listen, smile, laugh
Empathize, sympathize
Don't want to do it? Mouth tight shut and suck it up.
Feel a need trying to rear its head? Stamp it, tamp it, ram down the lid and hammer it home.
Yours is the good life, self-centred bitch!
Control it, hold it, keep it in. Batten down the hatches. Lock those doors.
Yours are non issues, so keep that scream right inside your selfish head.
Listen and learn what REAL troubles are.
Call out the troops, protect from fire and cover that back.
Cushion and provide for every possible fall.
Wrap them, warm them, support them, surround them with care
As soon as they are comfortable, step outside.
Head well up and stiff upper lip
There's no cheese for that whine, so shut the hell up.