Draft of song, “Come back”

It’s been quite a while since I really touched my guitar, or played or painted or did anything remotely creative. But out of the blue I made a song tonight. And I think being a perfectionist sucks. Being so stuck up on what people think sucks balls. So what am I gonna do? I’m gonna post a draft of the song. It was recorded with my computer microphone and, yeah, as I said it’s  a draft, just made. But hopefully you won’t think ALL of it blows …

(Uploaded the song in a new post after recording it with a real recorder)

As I said, I’m trying to not take myself too seriously and stuff and not be too self-conscious and perfectionistic, but I don’t think I’ll leave it up for long. There are boundaries!

So if anyone get’s to hear it, let me know what you think, even though it’s “You’re a terrible singer, it’s too repetitive, go die” … Or don’t say “go die”.

I’m anxious.

Silence chokes me, there’s too much noise

Sound surrounds me and all I want to do is scream. Shut up, I think. SHUT UP.

I can’t stand the chittery-chatting. I can’t stand to see. I want to cave in, isolate myself, underneath my covers and listen to loud-loud music. Only real noise can block out the noise I feel. Nothing. Nothing hits me. I turn to it the other cheek. And get hit again. Nothing is playing table-tennis and my head is the ball.

Heaven falls down. Game over. I get nauseous and heaven falls down again. And again and again. Earth spins too fast. You cannot spin-race the earth – because you will never win.

Silence hugs me tight. Silence squezes around me. Tighter. I can’t move an inch, and I can hardly breathe. Nothing comes out, even though it’s on the verge. Silence chokes me, but only my soul dies … my soul and my hope.

I hear a sigh, someone’s scratching their head, whispers, and the only thing I think is GAAAH! Silence is so noisy! Silence is too loud.

Catch me, force me. Hit me if you must. You must. Beat the living crap out of me so I won’t feel the noise in the silence. There’s. Too. Much. Noise.

Let me go. Leave me be. Set me free. Life is not in my future. SHUT UP, I think.

Death, now or later?

I think
a lot
about death

Convince
myself
that it’s my choice

I can choose
death

Now.

It hits me
Death will take me anyway
Death has chosen
me

Shall we dance
now?

Will I let life
take it’s course
Or will I?

Denies, postpones
life
No one chose me!
to life

Death will take me anyway
I can choose
now

No … thanks
Take it back
I don’t
want the choice
of life

I think
a lot
Little about life
Life doesn’t exist

I can choose death now
or later
That
is all

 

I wrote this almost 2 years ago.  I chose ‘now’, felt the euphoria of the choice, but chickened out after a phone call from a friend calling me selfish. I woke up in a hotel room by myself, lonely, lonely, lonely. I didn’t really write this, you imagined it.

Cheesy poem #2

I met you randomly as I stepped out from my car
It’s been so long, you said, I’ve been wondering how you are
Follow me in, and let’s catch up over drinks
Hush, don’t try to save this ship that sinks

I saw you between the sauces and the bread
I’m fine, fine, fine and truths were all unsaid
Dinner tonight, you should come around
I smiled, but didn’t tell you that I’d drowned

I was caught as I tried to back away
Almost safe, but you stopped me with your ‘Hey!’
Don’t go, I know that’s something’s wrong
What, no, I’m fine, really, just not strong

I met you randomly as I stepped out from my car
I’m worried, you said, tell me how you are
Let’s hang out, have fun and forget about the funk
Hush, don’t try to save this ship that sunk

There’s a man in Camden Town

There’s a man in Camden Town
he did some coke on Friday
Yeah, there’s a man in Camden Town
he did some coke on Friday

He’s a business man, with no girl at hand
he roams the streets of London
Wanders aimlessly, on troubled feet
hw watches the world fly by

There’s a warthog in a mausoleum
there’a a princess washing floors
yeah that rightwing man will vote for the Labours
and the fire will be cold

There’s a man in Camden Town
he went to work on Monday
There’s a man in Camden Town
he went to work on Monday

He’s a worried guy, but he gets by
he loves to make it thunder
Dances flawlessly, on troubled feet
and he watches the world fly by

There’s a warthog in a mausoleum
yeah there’s a princess washing floors
that rightwing man will vote for the Labours
and the fire, the fire will be cold

Cheesy poem #1

Years went by, and no one could see
This wrong right here, here inside of me
I became a poser, someone skilled to fake
When I wasn’t me ‘what could they possible take?’

I adapted smiles, and I redid their laugh
I was never whole, really, never even half
Sun stood up, and sun went away
I stopped dreaming of a brighter day

If someone had stood up for me back then
Maybe I would hope for sunshine again
But I fell and broke in too many places
The flame was gone, it got trapped in their mazes

Then you came by, and you could see
This wrong right here, here inside of me
You told me I was worth it, to give it all another try
But it was already to late, I’d already died