Kitchen

Yap, yap, yap.

Clack, clack, clack.

Rarr, rarr, rarr.

Clack, Clack, Crack.

I pour from the bottle,

The smell is raw n almost burning.

A drop spills out the beaker,

washing machine starts churning.

The cold plastic box,

is full to the brim.

Of recyclable rubbish,

I need to put in the bin.

Cloth damp n dank,

I rub through my fingers.

As I load up the machine,

That raw smell it still lingers.

Brrr, brrr, brrr.

clunk, clunk, clunk.

rurr, rurr, rurr.

clunk, clunk, clunk.

© 2025 All Rights Reserved Robert Reid

Run....

Run....Run....Run....Run,

I got paranoia apparently,

Keep thinking ppl R after me.

Twilight garden mirrors reflect,

N I skrew my body with neglect.

So I,

Run....Run....Run....Run,

From shadows in the dark,

N strangers in the park.

I'm a Schizo says the NHS,

But I blather shit best left at rest.

So I,

Run....Run....Run....Run,

From cold sweat horror dreams,

With no idea what they mean.

I'm a hospital club card member,

Pls don't rip if I don't remember.

My life's been on medical hold,

A hospital annoyance bolshie n bold.

So I,

Run....Run....Run....Run.

My days R getting shorter,

Should I hv bn a 40 yr old aborter? 

But I never know what's coming,

So that's why I keep on running.

Run....Run....Run....Run.

© 2023 All Rights Reserved Robert Reid

Prickles

I am awake but now I'm sad,

For coming out of the vivid dream I had.

For now this time is really real,

And no one can imagine the pain I feel.

I have nothing to really live now for, 

And my past is a closed dusty history door.

Time has flown past way too fast,

And the status quo will never last.

I know that I am going to die alone, 

N when I feel down I have no one to phone.

I only want to stay asleep in my bed,

Just have sweet opiate dreams til I'm dead.

Coz conscious me is having no fun,

Nobody has a clue about the mental pain I've done.

It seems this life has no place for me,

It seems I'm just a thorn on a prickly tree.

© 2022 All Rights Reserved Robert Reid