Posts Tagged ‘cigarettes’

scream

Back ensconced in ward 8 Bentley Hospital in my flytrap mind

At least I’m with my crazy people

Suicidal ideation with cold claws of depression around my throat

Empathy and cigarettes as I meet the gentle mental

Telling tales of trauma as we lurch toward medication time buoyed by companionship

Memories of their voices

‘She was born a heroin baby’

‘I took an overdose of Valium and a shitload of antidepressants’

‘I tried to kill myself twice’

‘I wish I was dead’

‘I tried to hang myself with a sheet and the nurse found me’

People rendered fragile by the viscous blender of earth

Some think us hopelessly broken

We balance madness and sanity in our brains sometimes madness wins

Medication time, medication time

Drugs are shuffled by doctors and dolled out to wild-eyed victims of the societal meat-grinder

Titration of pills and prescriptions to quell anxiety, depression and delusion

Uppers, downers, round and rounders

Anti-psychotics, anti-depressants and heavenly benzodiazepenes

Then we sit outside in the courtyard to smoke to punctuate our day

Sharing cigarettes with noble depressives or exploring thought projection with shamanic schizophrenics

We dance a devilish dance in a rain of paranoia

Until it all becomes too much

We are sad, we are sometimes shattered

Sometimes hard to love

But we laugh and we smile too

Then howl out the agony of our souls

We will keep trying

To get our heads together

download (1)

 

Take it through the moonlight to a center of beatific wisdom in the sky

Break it through the half-light on an unfamiliar globular mass

Make it with porcelain maidens whose expressions and breasts long for consequence

And never give up never break down never surrender

Until you have made synchrony out of dust

Slake your thirst with gorgeous wines while breaking into pieces

Wake up to a blurred suggestion of being out of style with a smile

Shake up paradigms that cut and symbols that caress like feathers

Until your hands are scuffed by dirt and there is vivid imagining

Snake it down cramped pathways in search of cigarette butts

Hate it from angelic spirit beings out of hopeless obligation

Ache it in co-ordination with random out-of-touchness

Until your heart is full as an egg and you pick the right alternative

centrelinkoptions

I wait for the Centrelink beast to devour me

It lurks ravenously waiting to bite off my head

And suck up my brain

I wait for the Centrelink beast to devour me

Like a snail waiting for a bird

Paralytic with fear

I wait for the Centrelink beast to devour me

Like a pandimensional lion eats up time

So many people have been busted

I’m sure they’re gonna bust me

Then I won’t be able to afford cigarettes

Or weed

his_messy_room_by_ibrahimamr

He  turned around and said
“Life is passing me by
And soon I will die
I seem to be having a problem with my lifestyle
Sitting in the detritus of my life
Festering away in daydreams
Counting ear weasel delusions
Breaking wind and smoking bongs
Mired in mental excrement
Emitting waste and crap all over the floor
Beer bottles, Energy drink cans
Empty cigarette butts, filthy plates
Life at an easy pace in subterranean sickness
Sorrowing, breathing, dying inside
Snapping time into chunks with cigarettes
Watching TV
Dicking around on the iphone
Waiting for something to happen”

amy_jackson_pollock_painting_by_amau41200-d4vjeut

Teenage kicks and hooligan hijinks
Drunken vandalism
Graffiti thrashed on walls

Sitck it
In your arm
Draw a bubble of blood

Don’t break
Your fragile bones
When stumbling

Mobile phones
Hypnotize masses
Like Dynamo

Shit stains in underpants
Time to do the washing

Erotic psycho-frenzy
Pants down for action

Gorgeous ass
Wobbles
Like a jelly melon

Your porcelain smile
Escalates me
For the moment

Light that cone
Inhale smoke
Cough

some pass cars
some make passes
I pass gas

Cigarettes like time
Thoughts like conversation
Tranquility

10028179-Close-up-of-a-smoking-cigarettes-in-a-stack-Stock-Photo

Time like cigarettes
Measuring out moments of tedium and trial
Just existing
Sometimes seems difficult
Watching television
To quiet suicidal ideation
Decaying cognition
Corrupted cogitation
Stinking thinking
All around the rubbish piles up
‘Cos I can’t be bothered cleaning up
Or have some mental block about it
Any woman would be frightened away
I’m going to die festering in my own filth

 

messy-room

 

Beer bottles of yesterday’s binges are spread out on the floor like dead soldiers on a battlefield
War against sobriety was waged and won
My chair is festering in guinea pig piss
The kitchen is a hurricane nightmare
My coffee table is rotting in ash and memory
Filled with all my essentials so they are easily at hand
Cigarette butts overflow in the ashtray
There also parts of old newspapers, chip-packets and empty orange juice bottles all over the place
Quite a few energy drink cans and some empty beer bottles
It’s a fucking mess
But it’s my mess damn-it

dirtyroom

Sometimes I feel like I’m living in a squat
A homes-westy kind of festering junkie den of dankness
When there’s crap all over the floor and dirty plates creating no stepping zones
The coffee table hasn’t been cleaned in months has black impasto layers of dirt
Just missing a couple of skanky junkie prostitutes nodding off in the corner
Now that would be cool

My sheets have a substantial amount of sand, dirt and guinea pig poo on them
Fortunately they’re black
I can never keep the doona cover on, so the doona is a dirty white slug on my bed
There are empty cigarette butts on the floor as I have been raiding my butt collection
It’s a miracle I get out of the place looking clean and moderately respectable sometimes
The wonders of showers and deodorant I guess

I wonder if I’d clean up my act for a good woman
Perhaps- anything is possible though not probable
I do kind of love my filth
I revel in many forms of corruption and depravity
So do the guinea pigs
They are piggies like me

grimreaper

Light bulbs blow
Coffee cups break
Glass shatters to shards
Hard drives corrupt
Entropy increases

Eyes grow dull and blind
Flesh rots to dust and feeds worms
Bodies wrinkle and bend
Hair becomes grey and brittle
Entropy increases

Cigarettes become cigarette butts
Cars rust to worthlessness
Buildings are knocked over to build more buildings
Every pet you ever had dies
Entropy increases

It’s inevitable
You can’t push back the tide of entropy
We are born, we die, we rot
The grim reaper is always at the door, his skull-face locked in a grimace
Entropy increases

Cigarette-butts
Bumper-hunting I will go!
Bumper-hunting I will go!
I look like a joke when in search of smokes.
When bumper-hunting I choose to go.
I look like scum, I look like a bum.
Everybody knows.
I go for a walk and pick up bumpers,
In car-parks and  railway stations,
Then I feel in my brain a peculiar sensation.
I really don’t care what they think.
What I need is a smoke and a drink.
When bumper-hunting I do go,
I don’t care if it’s against the flow,
And I don’t care if everybody knows.
And if I get lost or disappear,
At least I’ll have some smokes and my beard.
And I don’t care if people think I’m weird.