Poem: Futility

The day is new,

and I’m already exhausted.

Fuck the world,

and the english ambassadors.

Nightmare’s in the news,

because something has to bring Britain to a screeching halt,

hopelessness pervades my every thought,

self-loathing pervades every painkiller i take.

The public transport

stops at the latest decrepit bus stop,

and a train derails

it’s smashed mirrors, fondling the roots of a tree-line in my dreams.

The college lessons end in silence.

leaving emptiness in unclean corridors,

all the pain that echoes out

hangs itself,

suspended for the briefest moment.

Daylight fades leaving me to yearn for the beauty in nothingness,

but then I have no right

to ever contemplate such darkness,

do you?

There’s no love for me,

as the past is decimated,

and the future orbits around my future tomb

my days are numbered,

and i’m keeping the rose-tinted glasses on

as each moment descends into the indistinguishable.

my thoughts drenched in dissonant wails of every moment of contemplated suicide

each day becoming as undefinable,

as it is already defined,

through pain and only pain.

All of this may one day

cascade into something

bearable,

but for now it’s crystallised in broken memories and unbearable pain

each thought working only to keep awake

and ensure i fall apart in lessons

that lead into make-out sessions in woods;

my strewn coat,

her unhooked bra,

our tongues interlocked,

silence overwhelms us

as our lips lock and she tugs on my hair.

in isolation,

my mind darts from thought to thought,

as if the endless overthinking and thought process

is the only thing keeping me alive.

Oh what terrible thoughts.