Notebook Extract 1

I have kept notebooks for a few years now, and I return to write pieces on a daily basis, everything goes in, from poems to phrases, quotes and daily records, perhaps it's like a diary, though I don't tend to think of it in that way, it is definitely auto-biographical on the whole. Hopefully a few of you will enjoy whichever bits and pieces I put up, most probably two pages a day. Kicking it off with a slightly darker extract, Let you know what you'll be in for.

I'm desperately seeking questions to which there are no answers
not even half-formed, clouded fragments of clarity
for even they are distinct enough to ravage my mind
what pieces of my scavenged life could I use to create something better
more importantly, how much more would I care for what little remains
I'm not changing, I'm not progressing, and I've wrote the same shit for years
Because, what else is their? What could I write about?
My problems are self-evident, I wallow within the depression I allow to linger
because I'm not changing my mind set, my minds set on self-destruction
shall I smile again for those masses out there, or just hate them outright
I'm cutting off my senses on an hourly basis, to sit in stasis, barely conscious
I'm twisting my reflection between my fingers with the rest of the broken mirror mimicking my fragile nature, showing what I've chose to see before breaking apart with little motivation, it's pieces revealing a creation I didn't intend to create. Screaming “fuck you” in silence from false eyes, because it really isn't me, when I'm picking it's pieces up off the carpet, it's something dead, something to be thrown away and never see these sights again.
Lip shivering under flaring nostrils as my skin tries to crawl away from me.
Red sink, red wrist, red eyes, red hands, dead inside, but is that really true?
I'm alive, that is why I'm here, I'm alive inside, my heart beats and my blood flows, my lungs contort as I twitch, convulse, scream and sigh, and then I hide my razor-face and say hello to a world I shouldn't remain within.
Conversing with little intent to go past the surface, pleasantries exchanged for the sake of ease, covering the perceptions of me with deceit. I will pull the wool over the eyes of the wolf, the rhyme so easily placed shall not be wrote by me. Sifting through the inane and emotionless necessities of general conversation for some level of intrigue. “I've got to get a move on, enjoy your day” always the solution. Cause I have no personality, just a bunch of persona's, half-portrayal's of that which I consider to be pertinent to these people's expectations. Get home and sway as if the noose were round my neck, but I'm atop the fucking bed, not the gallows’s deck, no cheering crowd baying for my death, only the thoughts in my head of those I just left, who will go bereft?, who shall grieve me, what veil do I need to weave when I have neither bride nor widow, no tears dropped in my memory, mother, father? Did I prove you right in becoming this freak?, did I not replace the loss of your beloved Jake, am I that mistake conceived with hope by the hopeless, brought to life by fate and given an identical name, to a child who you had to lift from it's cot, no fever, not hot, just blue, cold and baby soft. You smashed that crib to pieces and left me with the screws. I wasn't the same to you, let's face it, I didn't replace shit, just reminded you of all that you hated. Do I share the face of my dad?, is that why you looked towards me as you must have when he forced you to the ground and pissed on you. Yes mum you had your excuses, I won't lie. But do you remember stabbing him in the kitchen, just stood there with a knife embedded in his chest, and I didn't see it through a frame I was watching from the door clinging to the frame, yet that was one of the 1st photo-less family pictures I took. I never blamed you for that, he deserved so much worse. So what about when you stabbed your brother because he said you were too drunk, me and four cousins stood around a BBQ, maybe 6 years old, as you tried so desperately to end his life, but all you did was kill the day and estrange us from from the few relative relatives who would still pick up a phone with your number. And then I still didn't care because you were my mum, the only thing I had, that thought finally shattered like the glass of that coffee table you forced my face through when I said “mummy, you've had enough”. Brought up rough, not tough. I've always been hiding cuts, and now my body is a fucking mess. But as always I never confess, oh who's that at the door, guess who, fucking guess! Oh yeah it's the c.p.s, so quick lock the door, cuz we're not in, there's not really anyone left, we're just a fucking show, everyone knows but as always nothing was said. Threw through a window for no reason what so ever, you almost killed me, I almost died, and you weren't even allowed near the fucking ambulance, I had to ring them to come anyway, as you sat drinking in the living room screaming “you filthy little cunt” and I stood out front and put up a front, with a towel wrapped tight around my torn artery, when asked I said I tripped over the dog, so they brought in the cops, but I never changed my plot, and so I walked home alone thinking of how to redeem you.
And I know you've known loss, but why did we both pay the cost when we never had enough to begin with, just silver cans and cold broken plates, dinner was never late, it just had to wait. I remember suckling evaporated milk from a torn can with split lips, while you next door suckled yet another load from yet another man's dick, forget the kid, get your fix, and dad where the fuck were you? You didn't do shit, stalked her all the way here for what?. Sure recently you've popped your head up, getting old, grey, have you realized you made a mistake, just because if I were to ring the phone you'd pick up doesn't mean the line hasn't been cut. You're like an old friend who just got in touch, but you will never be family to me and you know it. Why do I remember a man biting through my cheek, why do I remember having planters placed in the corner of my eye, breaking the socket, why was it always hate?, drink, drugs, broken mugs, bloody marks, school clothes baked in mud, torn and cut. I was taken from you so many times, and all I ever did, every time, every fucking time was lie, and try the best I could to make them believe you were good. Hearing you moan as yet another man fucked you for petty cash or cheap hash, “got to dash” neither of us can last, and god damn girl you must be good at your job cuz you work fast. so is this all in the past?, it's another bad joke, but I can't laugh, your life's yet to pass, I want you to die so I can piss on your grave, then you really could say I was my dad, but just like then you'd be silent. I now wish I could have watched you grieve, I wish I could have been there when you found your baby dead, I wish you had crawled up next to him and stayed till you rotted. The tendons in my left leg are still fucked from when you split it between the banister rails, poured so much fucking alcohol and drugs into yourself to try and kill me before I was born, were you aware there's a fucking syndrome for that!?. Remember at the school gates, I was maybe 7, fuck rhymes, and you broke my other eye socket in front of 3 of my friends and their parents, sam costa never talked to me after the 1st time he saw, sam lander's mum called the police on you twice before you went round and scratched the poor bitches face up. And chatfield's family wouldn't let him see me unless we stayed well away from my house. And never came round until I finally got out. No one came round, except smackheads and drunks, and your oh so eager clientèle. Cuz don't we all know that lullaby “get to your room you little freak” or the simple “weirdo”, so I did, forever I sat In that fucking room, and all the kids were playing, so I was playing songs, teaching myself to get it wrong, cuz that's what life feels like, so it's all long and droning, it goes on and on and on but It helped me get through, and you never heard any of it, just the laughter and clinking of glasses not yet broken, and I learned to talk with overheard words I shouldn't have spoken, and that's how I've fucking stayed, locked myself away and just trying to get through it all, trying to cancel out the background noises of life because it's too much, closed door's seem to only let in a muffled noise, the only time something audible is heard, the voice is raised for abuse, raised to abuse. And so I’d sit in a corner humming with my eyes closed, and you know what, nothings really changed, and I hate you so much. The 1st nights sleep I remember I laid between two posts of my disassembled, broken bed, on the carpet with my hands as my pillow, I wasn't even aware anything was wrong. I remember you falling down the stairs you forgot, drunken to a point you barely realized, your shin split off the radiator and the bone exposed itself to the air, yet you crawled back up to your bed leaving a trail behind you, which I followed with a cloth in silence, and you wouldn't let me close, screaming in my face and spitting at me as I tried to help, you held my face into the sheets and I let you, my ear burning as your nail dug yet another scar, and then when you let go, I started to look without feeling for the phone which you had lost, but it wasn't there and you were just screaming as you lay half asleep and bleeding, so I sat at the base of the bed with towels and cloths scattered to help catch the blood, and while you snored and raved I tried to clean that fucking wound, and all I wanted to do was find the phone and get you to the hospital, but it turned out the phone had broken with me. So I got the keys and I wrapped your leg and walked in the night, maybe ten years old to the hospital and told them we needed help. Did I ever get that?. Sick on the sink, dirty toilet, empty fridge, bent cans, bags of needles, bags of bags, beaten, unable to fight back, hands clasped round my neck and pinning me to the sofa, screaming stop, never help. Gasping for breath, released to slump and cry and pick up the pieces of another unobserved party.