Subterranean Consequential Blues

This is a poem I wrote which was inspired by Bob Dylan’s “Subterranean Homesick Blues”.

*

Subterranean Consequential Blues

 

Johnny’s in the basement

smoking on a crack

pipe

all alone in the dark

clingin’ to his dreams

tight

 

Johnny’s in the basement

he hasn’t got a

clue

he can’t even pay the rent

what’s he gonna

do?

 

Johnny’s in the basement

fighting for human

rights

making the world a better place

in his own fucked up

mind

 

Johnny’s in the basement

Burning a silver

spoon

He reckons he’s Neil Armstrong

He thinks he’s on the

moon

 

 

Johnny’s in the basement

he’s talking on the

phone

he’s saying “PLEASE HELP ME”

I can’t do this all

alone

 

Now I’m in the basement

But Johnny’s no longer

here

I don’t think he could take anymore

I think he got The

Fear

Every Day Distractions

This is something I wrote at university and it was inspired by Geraldine Kim’s “Povel”. The concept is that the writing combines poetry in the form of a novel whilst using total inspiration from ones stream of consciousness.  Povel is, in the author’s own words: “a successful merging between confessional verse poetry and the novel”.

Allen Ginsberg wrote the incredible “Howl” thinking nobody would ever read it but that’s what made it so beautiful; it was from the heart. This was probably one of the most honest and raw pieces of writing I have ever done. Just be warned that this isn’t for the faint-hearted.

I hope you like it.

 

Every Day Distractions

Keep a journal for a week. I’m so angry all of the time. Sweaty fat men on trains fuck off. See ex boyfriend. I shake and cry. I’m so tired of waiting. He seems so happy it makes me angry. Three vodka and lemonades later… he still looks happy. I hate him. I hate her. I hate myself. I eat homemade curry. I drive to Leighton Buzzard and get fucked up on rum, whisky, beer, ketamine and MDMA. I have an out of body experience in a dark nightclub. Flashing lights may cause epilepsy. Strange man with dreads takes photo. Flashing lights may cause epilepsy. I come out of my hole. Hard-tek, techno and bass. I don’t want to leave. I sniff some more and float in space. I stole my mums credit card and took more money out. “One cheeseburger, two double cheeseburgers, Mexican chicken meal with a diet coke, a medium normal coke and a garlic and herb chicken wrap.” We laugh at the fat spotty boy behind the window. I’m too wired to sleep and she won’t stop snoring. I lay awake and think of him.

I drive her to work in the pissing rain. I have my iPod and my jacket back, I still can’t sleep. I go to see another boy. He makes me tea and cuddles me in bed. We have a debate about Banksy. We watch Freaky Friday. I hope I don’t end up like Lindsay Lohan. I wouldn’t mind being famous. I still haven’t slept. I sniff more white powder. We kiss. I drink coffee and chat about shit for over an hour. I haven’t eaten. I drive home and he talks dirty to me. I kiss my Nan on the cheek. I own up to the stolen credit card. I go to work. We eat Chinese takeaway. I drink two glasses of red wine. I sniff some more. We watch crap Saturday night TV. Fuck celebrities. Fuck the jungle. Fuck everything. I lay in bed and we talk again. “I love your nipples; I want to be inside of you.” I love him. I hate him. I want to fuck him. I sleep into oblivion.

I am confused. I eat a bagel. I wash my hair. I am human again. I watch One Tree Hill to avoid doing work. I go to Tesco Express. “Mate, do you have any sliced ham? You know, like for sandwiches?” I hate ironing. I love my mum. My mum wants to get high. We eat roast lamb like a normal functioning family. I am fat. I stare at my phone. It gets dark by four o’clock. I regret the decisions I have made. Why can’t I be happy-go-lucky? “Bye. Love you. Take care. See you soon.” Me and my mum fight over clothes. I get high. I touch myself and think of him. He makes me sad and I feel let down. My heart aches as I fall asleep.

I wish I were rich. We shop at Primark. I buy leather hot pants in order to seduce him. “Have a nice day.” I eat the free food samples at Costco. I moan in the car to my mum. I bite my cheek and taste blood. My body aches.”Thinking of you”. “You too.” Fucking cunt. I’m not sure if I believe in true love anymore. I wish I could write. It won’t stop raining. Life after death. I get excited when I order new books from Amazon. My mum makes the best spag bol. The red wine goes straight to my head. The consequences of garlic bread “The morning after”. I consider drowning myself in the bath. The brandy burns my nose. I want to set myself on fire. I cry myself to sleep.

Creaky bedroom door wakes me, startled. “Time to wake up.” I hate Tuesdays. People on the Met Line reading “Broadshits and Tablies”. The lecturer is late. That red haired bitch needs to pipe down. We take a walk with the planes and talk about our feelings. I am lost in his touch, his scent , his kiss. Bang the mash, bangers and mash. Money can buy you happiness. The dinner table is always the centre of bad jokes. The distant crackling of fireworks still fills the November sky. “What’s more important? Who we become or how we become it?” I wait in vain.

Tea is the juice of Jesus. I feel like slamming my head repeatedly into my laptop. I can’t write any fucking more. I want a bucket of coffee. I find a red thread in my scrambled eggs at lunch; a red thread symbolises soul mates. I wonder if I am my own soul mate. All work and no play, makes me a very dull girl. All work and no play, makes me a very dull girl. All work and no play, makes me a very dull girl. I’m gagging for it. How many chances do we get before fucking it up is no longer an option? Being a woman is a good excuse to binge on chocolate. Cafe de Flore. I fall asleep with a smile on my face.

I need some fucking inspiration. I stereotype myself so I feel like I belong. T.F.I.F. Deadlines should be called Deadlives because that’s what we’ll be before the new year. Black Books and Quality Street distract me from my writer’s block. I can’t stop eating out of boredom. I am restless, I need a rest. I get high and listen to Fat Freddy’s Drop and High Contrast. A diet of carbohydrates and red wine is all the vitamins you need. My new books from Amazon arrive seven o’clock at night. Late night thrills on a Thursday. The weekend starts now. “Did you just spark up?” It all started with a Big Bang. We always pretend to know more than we actually do. Thanks to Facebook I catch up with old friends from ten years ago. Oh to be twelve again. The devil makes work for idle hands…

 

 

 

I don’t like the drugs but the drugs like me…

…as Marilyn Manson once said.

I have always had this love/hate relationship with drugs and with myself. Ever since I could remember, I always wanted to escape reality. When I was younger, I buried my head in endless books to escape, finding sanctuary within the pages. Then as I got older I unfortunately discovered a more destructive way of escaping; drugs. And I couldn’t get enough of them.

I started drinking when I was about fourteen years old. I can remember the first time I got seriously drunk and feeling so utterly free with my new found confidence. Then I started smoking weed at sixteen, which turned into something more serious by seventeen, when I had my first run in with the police for drink driving. It was then I tried cocaine for the first time. By eighteen I had a bit of a problem with it as I started dating my dealer and he was the first boy to break my heart. It was long after I was diagnosed with depression as well. I do wonder sometimes if it was the drugs that triggered it all off or the heartbreak. Or maybe it was a bit of both? Who knows. One thing I do know for sure is that this was just the beginning of my chaotic and destructive life.

After being diagnosed with depression, the doctors tried to put me on anti-depressants but I refused to take them. I saw this as almost giving into depression and thought it was a sign of weakness to take them. Instead, I had some private Cognitive Behavioural Therapy whilst I was attending Milton Keynes College and things started to get a little better for me. I was lucky enough to get my Diploma in Media Production and start moving forward with my life. Sort of.

I ended up taking a year out before starting university and my main focus was on having fun and getting totally wasted and just enjoying being young. My step sister and I moved out when we were about seventeen or eighteen and we held the best house parties. One house party we had in a house share with her boyfriend at the time and my gay best friend. We had speakers stacked up to the ceiling and a massive nos canister in our living room. I stupidly posted the party on Facebook and about three hundred people showed up. The police ended up raiding it with riot vans.

But it was at this party I tried Ketamine for the first time and I fell head over heels in love with it. I remember walking down the stairs into the front room and I kept saying over and over “I’m walking on marshmallows.” For me that was one of the best experiences I had ever had, as I was able to totally let go of all inhibitions. I felt invincible and I genuinely had not a single fucking care in the world. It helped me forget all the shit that had ever happened to me and just made everything seem so much better. It was a beautiful and dangerous love affair and I started doing it nearly every day.

A year or so later I somehow managed to get into my first choice university, which was The University of East London. I remember pulling up to the entrance and saying “I don’t belong here, turn around, I don’t belong here,” yet ironically it was the only place I ever felt truly myself. It was one of the most terrifying and most amazing things I have ever done and I will never know or understand how I ever did it- my love for drugs didn’t stop, if anything it got worse. I sound like such a fucking cliche but it literally fuelled most of my creativity. And I was happy.

I graduated University and shocked everyone including myself. My mum admitted to me that she didn’t think I would make it through the first year and to be totally honest with you I don’t blame her for thinking that- I changed emotions and directions as quickly as the wind changed the sea. I was a little unstable at the best of times. But the most satisfying part of it all? I was basically on drugs the whole time I was there, yet I managed to graduate with a high 2:1. I once even gave a presentation to four of my tutors on NO sleep, still half cut on pills, mkat and half a bottle of wine. And I got a first. So yeah, you could say my graduation was an accomplishment.

After I graduated, I fell into a low paid but steady job working 9-5 doing office admin. At weekends carried on taking drugs and partying – it was the only thing I knew how, the thing I could do best. I managed to get a pay rise, then a promotion and another pay rise. I was doing pretty well; I was happy, I had friends and a good job, my own place. I was attempting life as an adult and I was winning for the most part. Until I met “Him”.*

After he came and tore my world apart, the really bad drug habit turned into one hell of an addiction. I was easily sniffing six grams of Ketamine a day, along with GHB and cocaine and anything else I could find to numb the immense pain I was in. I was something I never thought I would be. I never admitted to having a “problem”. I was a full blown addict. I then started drinking loads again. Things got better then they got even worse. I started smoking crack everyday and on the occasion heroin, something I am so ashamed to admit, it makes me feel sick. I wasn’t this person, surely? I hated myself so much, I honestly didn’t care who I was anymore. I just wanted it all to end. I wanted to die.

But I didn’t die. I have no idea how, but I managed to fight my demons and my addictions. I wish I knew how I did it so I could give you some advice, but I honestly don’t. The only thing I know is that I just somehow managed to keep on fighting and keep on living, even when life was no longer worth living and I was not a person worth living for. It took a lot of strength to do that, but if I can do it, so can you. Don’t give up.

If you or anyone you know suffers with addiction, the Narcotics Anonomous UK helpline is 0300 999 1212.

*See blog “10 Things I Hate About You”.