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Old 06-04-2020, 12:50 PM   #51
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Member Since: May 2020
Location: UK
Posts: 57 (SuperPoster!)
Default Re: Memoirs in abstract

I needed a year out.
But it wasn't realistic.
Not for someone
From a tough
Working class background like mine.
It was better for
Me to test the waters
And take any old job
Than to stay at home.
The doctors maybe
Could have said
That I should
Take time out to rest.
But I can bet
My bottom dollar
That they were
Snowed under with patients.
And a young person
Doesn't want to put
Their life on hold.
Art therapy was not
Much use for me.
I could all ready paint.
I would not go
And sit in some sterile
Psych department while
Being observed. That
Didn't sound therapeutic.
It would have
Benefitted the person
Analysing my work
More than me.
They would learn about me.
I was not afraid.
I did not want to be analysed.
I all ready
Knew that I was
From a f**** up family.
And that they
Had gotten exactly what they wanted.
The perfect scapegoat.
And a book,
Was my ticket out.
The only way out.
It was writing I had
To pour my energy into.
Do you think I
Wanted it that way?
I wanted my life back
But I couldn't go back
To the person I was before.
I felt I had to
Win back my freedom.
Encoding a project
So the other half
Couldn't criticise me.
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Old 06-04-2020, 01:34 PM   #52
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Member Since: May 2020
Location: UK
Posts: 57 (SuperPoster!)
Default Re: Memoirs in abstract

Taking harder drugs, to me
Was like playing Russian Roulette.
An addict never knows
What their gear is cut with.
The damage they do
To the body and brain
Can be irreversible.
The psychoactive element
Of weed didn't appeal to me.
I drunk to forget.
To become numb.
To get some sleep.
To socialise with my pals
And unwind and have fun.
To find oblivian too at times.
I didn't want a high, a thrill or a buzz.
I was never cool.
Writing and art is
Not cool or glamorous.
I didn't want to make
A bad situation worse.
The liver can repair
After a hard weekend
If you give it time off.
And I can afford
To sacrifice a few brain
Cells that a drink may obliterate.
But the damage to
The brain from drug use
Can be more complicated
And long lasting along
With your heart and other organs.
I never considered
Drugs to aid in creativity.
I don't believe they
Help with creativity.
Art requires focus. My art does.
I am a perfectionist.
I saw my body as a temple.
I was genuinely
Someone who drunk
To cope with their life
And the people in it.
Don't ever call me a hypocrite
Because I drink alcohol.
Alcohol is a controlled substance.
I have no time for drugs.

Last edited by Lunatyc; 06-04-2020 at 01:49 PM..
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Old Today, 05:06 AM   #53
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Member Since: May 2020
Location: UK
Posts: 57 (SuperPoster!)
Default Re: Memoirs in abstract

Kids who lose their
Parents in movies.
It's always a car crash.
Rebel artistic types
Usually have been
Left an inheritance,
Or have snotty well off parents
Who just don't understand them.
So they don't have
To wash dishes or
Mop floors or stack shelves
To make ends meet.
Orwell was homeless
For a spell.
Jack Kerouac lived
At home with his mum.
He refused to take
Responsibility for a
Kid he fathered.
Burroughs had a drug habit
That was funded by his parents.
Kafka died in a sanitarium
As did Orwell.
JD Salinger was messed
Up after the war
And spent time in a mental hospital
Becoming reclusive later on.
Cynthia Plath was
Chronically depressed and
Had ECT treatment.
F. Scott Fitzgerald's wife was
Rumoured to have
Suffered from schizophrenia.
Van Gogh was in a mental hospital.
Modigliani jumped to his death
After he lost his wife.
Every single artist in
The world has been
Depressed at some point.
The list goes on.
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Old Today, 06:28 AM   #54
Lunatyc has no updates.
Member Since: May 2020
Location: UK
Posts: 57 (SuperPoster!)
Default Re: Memoirs in abstract

He was the type of person
I swore I wouldn't be with.
The fighting and possessiveness
Was what I hated.
I didn't need protecting
Form anyone except him.
I didn't gravitate towards
Him because of his
Macho hard man image.
I put up with it
Because I was so desensitised.
I didn't know a
Life without struggle.
I grew up in a
Rough and ready environment at home
With tempers fraying constantly.
Walking on egg shells.
He called me
A cold hearted ****
I did shut down at times
I had to, to get by.
I don't know where
He got his pig headedness from.
His parents were
Hard working homebodies.
I wish mine were
More like them.
So my step dad
Was the lesser of two evils
But he never hit my mum,
Or beat me and my sibling.
I got clap a
Around the ear as kid.
He gave us a sharp slap
Which wasn't really required.
He smashed the
Window in the front door.
There was a few times.
He didn't hit me as such.
He lost his temper
But he regained composure
And never hurt any of us.
I wouldn't stand for
The old other half's out bursts.
Him telling me I
Was projecting onto him
And was not actually mad at him
But at my step dad.
No. I was mad at him
And him alone.
I had made my peace
With my parents.
I hadn't forgiven them
For the way they were after rehab
But I accepted the way they were.
We agreed to disagree.
I realised very early on
That I couldn't depend on them
And would need
To work for things myself.
I beat myself up
For going off the rails.
I know my parents
Parenting style was damaging.
I knew that his family
Were a close knit one.
He respected his parents
Yet, he had a
More of a complex
Than I ever had because his
Parents weren't well off
When he was young
Compared to some
Others he went to school with.
They were well off
In more ways though.
They worked hard and
Were comfortable and
Didn't need to be
Out in the pub
As family was their life.
I thought I could have
That someday. Hoping
He would soften up
If we decided to start a family.
But I wasn't sure.
We didn't come to blows
Over money but I envisioned
That we would in the future.
And his propensity
To flip out was frightening.
His eyes would switch
From beautiful blue
To the hottest part
Of a flame, the blue centre.

Last edited by Lunatyc; Today at 06:42 AM..
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