Diversions

If I knew the way

to where I want to go

would it be enough

to prevent getting lost,

or would I still get sidetracked

on some wrong turn

who sends me

hopelessly perplexed?

I know the direction

that I ought to take

but every time I set off

something blocks the way,

and every diversion

I take in good intentions

is another three years back

to the sorry place I started.

Crybaby

Maybe I am not all of those white lies

I was told I'd be when I was a kid,

there is nothing special behind my eyes

and I know even less than I ever did.

I know they were told to boost my esteem

but your words did more harm than they did good

because when I defiantly dared to dream

I got far less than I thought I should.

I am no longer your little boy

but I am just as fragile and scared,

I am still searching for another toy

rather than waiting for mine to be repaired.

And when in need, I screw up my face and cry,

so maybe that baby in me did not die.

Set in my Ways

I live by my own unfounded theories

which all sound great inside my head.

I have the conviction to believe

but lack the confidence to make them spread.

I might well be an unknown mastermind

or a lunatic with his head in the clouds,

but to seek recognition I will not find

is to be just as dim as the blinded crowds.

I like to think the world isn't ready

when in fact I'm not ready for the world,

I should keep expectations safe and steady

and not concern myself with where I'm curled.

Someday, I'll be ready to let you all in

and you will see the grounds behind my grin.

Choose a Letter, Any Letter

Alphabetic lottery

isn't what it used to be,

its draws are all old history

and don't present a lot for me.

Wrapped Up

My to-do list is wrapped around my neck

and I cannot find the air to inhale;

or the pen to keep those things done in check

and so time will pass and those tasks must fail.

If only it could give me just an inch

then it would comfortably unravel

 but I am confined and I can feel its pinch

which makes my throat sound as rough as gravel.

Someday, I am sure I will escape its clutch

and I will be free to move as I please,

but for now it has all become too much

and I am anxious for this pain to ease.

Until then I'll remove it, stroke by stroke

and hope to be finished before I choke.

First Santa, Now This...

For the first time in a comfortable but callow 21 years of life,

I have considered something so callous that could crumble

the strong foundations I have set all of my faith in to.

At the moment, it's just a far-fetched but uncomfortable concern

yet its apparition into my sub-conscious

has brought about a real worry of actualisation

and although there is no evidence to support my worries

there are those brief  hints which seem to grow stronger in the dark of night.

I'm convinced that it won't happen.

It won't happen.

It can't happen.

It won't happen.

It can't happen.

NW

I was born a North-Western boy

with all of the world at my feet

but the North-West has held me down

and all of the world has me beat.

I want to be so much better

but it's impossible to break free

from a pattern of imperfection

which has become a part of me.

When I wake up so lethargic

I breathe a promise of purpose

yet I cannot carry out my words

and so any breath is surplus.

I might as well just go to sleep

alone in this North-Western bed

to dream about some company

just about anywhere instead.

Gang Vocals

Last night's stamp on today's hands,

buzzing amps from last night's bands

let lyrics of love linger

in the voice of the singer.

Bars jam packed between the sets,

shows backed with handmade pamphlets,

supporting your local scene

to become the best it's been.

It's another night at the show

but no-one else is wanting to go.

Still, you'll find me there

with moments to share

with people I don't even know.

It's another night at the show

but no-one else is wanting to go.

Still, you'll find me there

with moments to share

with people I don't even know.

It's another night at the show

but no-one else is wanting to go.

Still, you'll find me there

with moments to share

with people I don't even know.

Another Broken Sample

I'm making a few changes.

Okay, it may be forced

but it is never false.

A necessary alteration

to love who and where I am.

You are collateral

that must go along with those traits

which you bring out of me.

you are the apple of my eve

and the snake in my tree.

It's too easy to attach

but it's too hard to love,

so I look with envious eyes

at everything I can't reach,

even those shelves I don't want.

I'm making another show of myself.

Okay, you all know by now

I wear my heart on my sleeve

and my maturity on my cuffs,

so would just a few changes be enough?

Eyes to the Ground!

Stopping mid-sentence-

it's just another sign of distraction,

so concerned about those future puddles

that you miss taking evasive action.

Starting with a splash-

it's a filthy wake up call of no use,

because now that you have got in this mess

you put your soles under further abuse.

Changing your attire-

it's a short term solution to stay clean

but if you take the same mud-ridden path

you will get as dirty as you had been.

Avoiding the path-

sure it will stop you getting in that state

but your curiosity draws you in

and you are forced to the same filthy fate.

I Don't Want a Birthday

I don't want a birthday.

It's all a farce.

I don't want a birthday.

A pain in the arse.

I don't want a birthday.

Why would you celebrate...

I don't want a birthday.

your fatal fate?

I don't want a birthday.

Especially if it involves drinking.

I don't want a birthday.

I want to lie alone thinking.

I don't want a birthday.

It may sound depressing...

I don't want a birthday.

but solitude is a blessing.

I don't want a birthday.

I hope my friends read this.

I don't want a birthday.

I hope my friends heed this.

I don't want a birthday.

I'll enjoy my life fading...

I don't want a birthday.

all alone, listening to endserenading.

Not at the Races

I can't keep up with the beat of my heart,

I've been lagging behind, gasping for breath.

It's like my longings have had a head start

and they will not slow down until my death.

It wouldn't be so bad if I could rest

from all of my wants and all of my needs,

but I'll have to settle for second best

and keep on running until my soul bleeds.

My words are as tired as this position

but they will serve me well until the end

where I may find myself some precision

and the time to let my beaten limbs mend.

And words will help to pump the blood around

and will stay strong even when I hit the ground.

Hard to Please

Scrolling through contacts.

No.

Nah.

Nope.

Back to an empty bed.

Choked Up

I have come to realise

that my sadness suits me best

and in that sense I surmise

that I have always been blessed.

When the tears well in my eyes

and a clamp captures my chest

still I cannot seem to cry

and it cannot be expressed.

So I escape to the saddest songs

to try and find release

but I've been hearing them too long

for their sound to bring me peace.

I know I cannot right my wrongs

but I can write them down at least

and when the feelings seem too strong

then maybe...hopefully they will cease.

Blocking My Own Light

Like the teacher who always hated me,

you seem to catch me at my very worst.

Is it a ploy to teach me a lesson

or expose those scars my pride has nursed?

Maybe I've been cursed.

No matter which way my feet are pointed

a part of me will remain in the shade,

but part of me is always disappointed

with the part of me which is portrayed.

I am the sunshine on a cloudy day;

you never see when I am at my best.

I hope to burn right through every problem

which has kept me concealed and suppressed.

Maybe I'll be blessed.

No matter which way my feet are pointed

a part of me will remain in the shade,

but part of me is always disappointed

with the part of me which is portrayed.

Wastelands

I don't get tormented by those people

who have been present in painful moments;

it's my own messed up masochistic mind

which drags my guts through the murky swamps.

I'm scared of what thoughts I may be keeping

a sadistic secret from myself.

I'm scared I will let myself down again

and be forced to rescue my sinking pride.

Is it not enough to say that I'll try

to find my way out of this savage waste?

Is it not enough to say that I'll try

my very hardest to be enough?

Because at the moment I am past hope

and have found myself somewhere I can't cope.

It's Terrible

Why can't I be enough

for my own modest demands

when I am more than enough

for somebody else?

I don't want to be loved

for the person I am,

just to know who I am

and love myself for it.

I hate my self-pity

and pity myself for it;

it's pity for pity's sake

and it makes me feel weak.

Rebirth

Rian Mercer is dead.

I've been rewriting my blotchy past

to present myself with a brighter future.

It's pointless scribbling out mistakes

because I've pressed on so hard

each action has etched into the next page-

I need an empty pad.

I've been reinventing the traits and ideals

which I have defined myself around

to better match the modern definitions

because my dictionaries have been so out of touch

with what being me means-

I need relevance.

I've been revisiting those songs

about who I used to be

and picking out my favourite lyrics

so I can apply them to my current state

and emulate that joy-

I need guidance.

I've been reincarnating

that phantom of happiness

which has been haunting my head,

not resting until I can rest

with a smile on my face-

I need him back.

Rian Mercer is alive.

Overage Drinking

What made me feel so old,

so old beyond my years?

I am a vintage wine

in a pub full of cheap beers.

And no-one wants to take a sip.

No-one dares to let their guard slip.

I'm just another wasted drip

beyond the barmaid's tiring grip.

Maybe I should be served

from a different scene

where I'm appreciated

and the thirsty lips are keen.

But I have been waiting so long

to find somewhere that I belong,

maybe my taste is just too strong

cause still no takers come along.

And so I am the dregs

to those so afflicted

they just take whatever

from what they are addicted.

Funeral Plans

I've been thinking about my funeral
even though I am only twenty.
It's not that I'd welcome an early death,
I just have a thing for planning plenty.


I don't know if I'd want happy faces
or to fill the aisles with a stream of tears.
I don't know which of my friends would attend
and which of them I'd lose over the years.


Would current choices remain relevent
or would they be constricted to some phase?
Which parts of me will die the earliest
and which parts will see out my days?


Plans are constantly made and amended
and I won't stop planning 'til life's ended.

Fear of Feelings

I can't keep seeking sheltered protection

from any sort of care and affection

merely because I'm scared of rejection

and letting people see my imperfection.

It Rained Today...

The world looks cold from the safety of my room

but I need air if my thoughts are going to bloom

and I can't live in constant fear of the rain

because living such a life would dry out my brain,

so I'm going to take a step outside

and I will not go home until the ground has dried,

I may look a fool when I'm shivering and wet

but at least it'd be something I wouldn't forget.

Mimic

Pick a number between one and two;

that's the one that I'd choose too.

Autopilot Off

I've been waiting for some kind of moment

to come and prise open my sleep filled eyes,

to drag me by the trembling, clammy hand

and take me to where some joy could arise.

I won't find anything with my eyes shut

constantly dreaming in my risk-free bed

but I can't find the courage to get up

and start looking towards the days ahead.

I get jealous of people who are sure

because I hate these autopilot ways

where everything I do is so idle

and I am merely seeing out my days.

So it's about time that I took control

and spark some life into my greying soul.

Blindfolded in a Hedge Maze

To fill a void

I just avoid

those who made

my heart a cave.

It's no solution

for destitution

but pain will fade

and time will save.