I awake feeling sad, broken and wishing I felt none of these things. Tomorrow i’m waking up alone and going to remember everything that once could have been. The world has a hell of a right hook, i never expected a black eye that bad. words bite, inexperience harms, i wish that had been pinned … Continue reading 2018: Madness masquerading as sanity
i wander the woods in my dreams and hope to find an answer to my existential crises, i find only nothing
Time is passing me by, and I don’t have a hold on it or life anymore. Meanwhile Pitchfork today just gave two best new music tags to the new albums by Earl Sweatshirt and The 1975, both well deserved. On the other side of today today I found myself awake at 4 am my head … Continue reading i wander the woods in my dreams and hope to find an answer to my existential crises, i find only nothing
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 … Continue reading Poem: Futility
Watching Bojack Horseman on anti-depressants
Well hell, there's a need to overdo it with painkillers and spiritual self-harm, till even the Grim Reaper knows I'm too far gone. Things change? I bet you've heard that one before? Christ I've said it too many times before, let's see if it sticks. A loved one told me, 'running' helps with your depression. It … Continue reading Watching Bojack Horseman on anti-depressants
(Or) so say they say
it isn't a particularly nice world or time; I'm exhausted and hopeless after a six-year long battle with severe depression, anxiety and suicidal thoughts. It's easy to say it's been a long one. I'm too lazy to write a suicide note, and as far as I know this isn't it, for months I've struggled to … Continue reading (Or) so say they say
Poem: Cliche Psychoanalytical diatribe #18
Eat me, because I'm being swallowed Let me rot, because I don't want to bloom Endless references to death in everything i do every move i make an attempt to reflect death honing in on me Sleeping till noon, but waking at 3am sweating from nightmares of my own death. the image of driving a … Continue reading Poem: Cliche Psychoanalytical diatribe #18
Escaping soullessness
I read a Guardian article not so long ago that branded us the 'Stitled Generation' it was a definition that to so many others meant nothing; yet for me, hit me like a cinderblock. With the title still swirling around in my head now. And ironically, I'm meant to be the guy, who doesn't believe … Continue reading Escaping soullessness
A note (written whilst listening to Frank Ocean’s Blonde)
i'm not out here trying to create art; all I'm trying to do is create something Honest. i am trying to create something that is a reflection of who am i, Where i am and Where the world is (in my eyes). art is just another label, like lesbian, gay and straight (to name a … Continue reading A note (written whilst listening to Frank Ocean’s Blonde)
Untitled (or) Leaving myself
Months ago, if you'd have asked, I would have probably said I was happy. Unconventional, yes, but happy nonetheless. Fast forward to today (4/12/17), all of that carefully curated happiness has rotted away. The dream is dead, and hope is a cold corpse. Now it's just me, a cold room, 7am wake-ups, and a notification-less … Continue reading Untitled (or) Leaving myself
life’s not cool
i’m currently in boxers and a flannel shirt, the sleeves rolled up. My friends are asleep on the couch. the cauldron is empty. halloween was a mess. I’m typing these words on my phone: from binge watching the second season of Stranger things (fairly decent sophomore season) to bumping into girls in short black dresses … Continue reading life’s not cool
Ben Brizell 