Alone

Alone again, with blood sweat stains,

That drug inside, makes me happy to abide.

I'm swimming in debt, def a bad bet, 

Deep red vein pool, drunk as a fool.

Rolling in sweat, cluck aint over yet, 

I want to be free, n happy to be me.

Smiling with lies, dry tears in my eyes, 

Feeling the pain, I'm in that dark hole again.

People are around, I can hear their sounds, 

But they're happy to be, happy without me.

I lie in my bed, sometimes wish I was dead, 

But time it would take, this life is a fake.

So I fake that smile, it comes easy in a while, 

Time spend lying, but inside I'm crying.

Coz lonely as I am, friends don't come in a can, 

I got nowhere to be, nothing interesting to see.

I'm lying alone, no ring from my phone, 

I wish I was I was fun, I wish for some sun.

I want happy to be, with good friends around me,

But lonely I am, and alone I stand.

 

© 2022 All Rights Reserved Robert Reid

Mr Mentalist

Mr Mentalist please, can u let me get out of my bed,

Mr Depression has called and I want 2 go back 2 the dreams that I had.

He always calls when I fail, and makes me wish I was dead.

Please Mr Mentalist please, can you let me rest my own head.

But now I've dragged myself up I'm freaky deaking right out,

Old friend Mr Anxiety has visited n given me a hard sharp clout.

Please Mr Mentalist can u give me some pills to calm my self-doubt,

I can't find my phone or keys and I'm flipping right out.

I go from zero to a hundred in a flick of an eye,

People think I'm crazy mazy when they hear me swear n cry.

All I wanted to do was get my laptop 2 work n comply,

But now I'm a swearing freak and people look at me n sigh.

Oh please Mr Mentalist can you sort out my paranoid feelings,

I keep hearing ppl on mute just thinking I'm not worth dealing.

All I want is someone to come n give me some proper mental healing,

But I don't trust nobody to come in here n walk out without stealing.

I know the old rhyme, that Paranoia will destroy ya,

But I hear silent ppl on my screen bitching and laughing "ha ha".

I got that feeling that all the ppl r just looking at me jotting all my flaws,

I can't relax at all, n my paranoid shoulder monkey is ripping, bear claw.

So please Mr Mentalist, can you do me a massive favour,

I got the schizo twitcho ithcos, with no sign of a saviour.

Leaves r raining down with flashing lights n my mind is all misbehaviour,

I'm scared I'll do something crazy n stupid, and I need a lifesaver.

All the shrinks say I'm just screwed up and they can't even help,

I'm ashamed to be ashamed, coz I just wanna it all dealt.

I get letter after letter saying I need to do my own self-help,

If I could sort my own crazy out, I would have if I could have, but it's pure agony to self.

So please Mr Mentalist can you make people understand me,

That I ain't angry on purpose and I just want people to like me.

It's seeming more n more like this world don't have a place for me,

And for anyone to relate it's 2 late, I'm just a thorn on a big mad tree.

© 2022 All Rights Reserved Robert Reid

This is also published on the Mary Francis Trust Website for their Mental Health, Time To Talk Day > https://www.maryfrancestrust.org.uk/poem-mr-mentalist/

POEM: "MR MENTALIST"
To support #TimeToTalkDay our Creative Writing Group led by Michele has come up with a series of wonderful and heartfelt pieces discussing mental health stigma.
This fifth piece is a poem called “Mr Mentalist” written by Robert.https://t.co/Vnww2X0Uk5 pic.twitter.com/nmolTPsXGb

— Mary Frances Trust (@MaryFrancesTrst) February 3, 2022

Please share these links......

On Twitter > https://twitter.com/MaryFrancesTrst/status/1489252342943956992

or Instagram > https://www.instagram.com/maryfrancestrust/

or Facebook > https://www.facebook.com/maryfrancestrust/posts/3145716732330079

I'm Fine

I feel fine, I feel fine

yeah great, just fine,

Everyone else is happy,

Whilst I'm stuck in my own mind.

There's ppl talking over there,

And ppl chatting on the chair,

But I don't have anything to say,

So I stand by the stairs.

Ppl are loving this day,

Rain, hot then, champagne spray.

I'd love to give a speech,

But I wouldn't know what to say.

There's Aunties n Uncles all telling me to get better,

I don't think they get it. I'll have to leave them a letter,

So I drift to the kitchen, and drink by myself,

Then someone comes in n nicks the last Stella from the shelf.

I really can't stand talking, crap n chit chat,

Babies n marriage, what do I know of that,

So I go upstairs, to my old room in the house.

And lay down on the bed, go to sleep, quiet as a mouse.

© 2021 All Rights Reserved Robert Reid

Irritants....

My TVs just broke and it ain’t no corny joke, coz lying on my bed only makes me want to toke.

I need a KO express, Caffeine-less depress, and I wait for the sleep, with an ashtray on my chest.

The windows open wide, yet I close the curtains and hide, for nothing is as nice, as a wasps buzz inside.

You get a little cup, try to lift the sucker up, but try as you might, the dopy insect won't take flight.

It's just another irritant!

My front rooms bulb just gone again, best part of a tenner to see again, what the fuck have I got to spend, I just need a pay-day lend.

Ask my old man for a loan, and get greeted by a moan, all I want is a clear view zone, but I'll have to shop alone.

So I go to B&Q for a shop, only need a 60 watt, yet back in the car I've forgot, and nut the wheel, blood clot.

Coz those Ray-bans on my eyes, must be very heavily disguised, still I'm pleasantly surprised, to find my shades still on my head alive.

Shopping is always an irritant.

Then a bird phone rings as I'm shopping for some things, it's just another yabba yabba ting, should have just let it ring.

But I get in my car, don't drive too far before the hands-free goes HA, and I can't turn off the electrics in my car.

I try to pop the hood, like any man could, the lever bloody should, but snaps in half well good, left here covered in blood.

Try to give my Dad a call, but he aint answering at all, so go to knock on a neighbours door, knowing they're probably being silent hugging floor.

Flat battery irritant

Heat is mean on my thin blood, can't cool down like people should, so I'm lying on my bed, but too few Mummy's little helpers to help make me brain dead.

But now my net curtains fallen down, and it ain’t a funny frown, coz I know I'll surely drown, from all the insects in the town.

I can't stand this boiling heat, the damp sweat soaked nightly sheets, yet I've got an top deck view, of an estate of flabby meat.

Maybe they should all try to disguise, coz those Slag Tags ain’t very wise, and if you stand under my skies, I'll automatically 2 metre-ize.

TWO Metres – Irritant Bitches!

So I'm walking to the chemist, when a doofus becomes a menace, and an argument that ain’t even mine, ends up with possibility of doing time.

I must have a face right for a punch, and I've had to absorb a bunch, funny thing is though, I've never gone to ground once.

But I'm fed up of Doctor Who? Telling me they maybe new, but seemingly well clued, that my granite skull's my saviour too.

Well you can take it all back, coz as great as it is n all that. I'd rather remember more, than become a hundred year old senile bore.

I'm probably just another persons irritant.

© 2020 – All Rights Reserved - Robert Reid