January 31, 2018

The end of the month
Rent is due too soon
Restless sleep waking
At the hour of noon
Missing my morning
Sitting in the bed
Wishing and wishing
That I could be dead
Realizing after
How stupid this is
I have so many
Who love and care
But inside a small part
Is just so unaware
It pains me to say
I ever feel like this
But I want those to know
You don’t have to quit

January 30, 2018

A Year ago
I wrote about
Feeling my depression
Hitting me
Like a train
The tracks attached
To my back.
No matter how far
I run
How fast I go
It will eventually catch up
And run me over
Back to the emptiness
I always feel
Today I want
To take a pledge
So that next year
The train doesn’t hit
And I can get better
I won’t want to quit!

Fixing Myself

January 29, 2018

Someday soon
I want to feel well
Like everything’s better
Inside and out
There are layers of existence
I want all to be right
No longer filled
With pain, destruction and blight
But I can’t control
All the layers out
I must work
To fix myself
And hope beyond hope
My fixes will shed light
On others suffering
From this internal blight.


January 28, 2018

Taking a month off
Has lead to two months of work
Cycle of creation


January 27, 2018

My imagination
Is uncontrollably strange
Stretching out
Sometimes deranged
I don’t know how
To keep it in check
And some days I worry
It’ll get me in heck
For it doesn’t know
What’s prim, proper, and pure
It says bad things
Like a sailor would
But it also shows love
To no abound
Sometimes it even
Cares for the ground!


January 26, 2018

Tired eyes stare out
At nothing at all
From jaundiced skin
Caused from a liver
Put through years of hard-liquor fueled labour
Meaty fists
Slipping into
A brown paper bag
A Naya bottle
Full of brown gold
Crown Royal?
Canadian Club?
Doesn’t matter;
Poison d’jour.
Sadly riding the train
Moved here
To escape the demons
The old country presented
Only to find
The old country and the new
Are largely the same.
Corrupted for
Those who hold power
There was no dream
Just drunk morning hours.

Boardroom Brawl

January 25, 2018

Slipping into the past
Just for a moment
Breathing the air
Of yesteryear
Feeling the freedom
Of childish dreams
And childish commitments
(or lack thereof)
Not worrying how
I’m going to move up
Swimming against
The current of
MBAs with their KPIs
Silver-toothed smiles
That don’t quite cut gold
Then the stark reality hits
Like a boardroom brawl
The numbers returned
Looks like I’ll fall.