Tag / intrusive thoughts

by Chris Chant

Taken

Long live the memories, the lessons
And the scars.
The fun has surpassed, living life and fast cars.
Bring out the coffin, the bringer of mystery
Wrapped in riches of new, brimming of history
Horns will blare and even grown men shall weep
As the parade glides by to telegraph this sleep.
For this day only, not one thing is the same
Each conversation begins with the mention of their name
The eyes were alight, but now they stand cold
Voyaged in a Carriage, with wheels made of gold.
Dry the tissues, wipe away velvet tears
Substitute frowns with smiles and silent cheers
Memories flood, and emotions will sway
Leave the sadness where you stand, on this lone surreal day.

by Chris Chant

Reflection

Avoid all, still not missed
Replays of friends who still exist
Thoughts cloudy of partners kissed
Many reunions, not on list
A ghost alive in this time
Head an alarm, heart a chime
Mortality clouds an open head
Life be easier without dread
Flashbacks penetrate, hard sharp funnel
Retreating briefly, a deafly tunnel

Boredom, no loneliness
Bordering mad, bordering mess
Panic rises, need more haste
Blood spilled, leaves bad taste
Cut on skin, scrape on mind
A bloody favour, being kind

Impulse brings clammy splatters
Wall, floor, neither matters
Ceramic sink tainted red
Shallow cùt, far from dead
Choice made, closer to life
Drop blade, clean stained knife
Fighting with each shallow breath
Retreat from the near bitter death

Admit faltering defeat, move shock to motion
Fallout with breaths, wash scars with rain
Expect the time that will define the future,
Of being able to face the mirror image again.

by Chris Chant

Singled Out

Being alone
Means pretence intimate to everyone,
No congregation
No groups,
Acknowledging all to their fronts
And backs.
Dont try to recruit me,
I shall nod in agreement
Smile to agree
Then I shall walk away,
And will not follow.

I will not fight for nothing
Other than blood.
My decision is final,
I will only rest on my own,
Woken loud to nerves in company
Flowing through the emotions
Until escapism takes hold.
I am only real and fluid,
As I take flight to seek isolation.

by Chris Chant

Changes

The mind is adept at its own pretence
When a foreseeable ending claws at its sense
Rapid spate of change is hard to allow
Crystal clear thoughts deviate from the brow
An uncontrolled destined moment in time
Perspectives of honesty bring up the divine
Amnesiac spaces previous and after
Brings the transition not nearer nor faster

Change sparks defence to raise fully clad
Denial, like a sane man humouring the mad
A rapid such ending wretches the soul
Pulls what we possess to never let go
Our sleepless gut instinct repulses the last
Repelling an echo of struggles near past
For even the efficient an ending feels strange
A limbo state not desiring to change

An unconscious unknown steadily beckons
Lifetime of intake, although its just seconds
Confusion is ripe though doesn’t persist
Without endings your presence wouldn’t exist
On ponder a moment which presents a choice
An alternate view to retain a lost voice
Reflect to proceed, an perceptive mind wins
Determine an ending, is where a new first begins.

by Chris Chant

Awakening

As you sleep
I weep
Crying for tomorrow
Drenched in sorrow
As you dream
I scream.

As you wake
I shake
Pained Expression
Of depression
As you leave
I grieve.

As you try
I die
From humiliation
My situation
As you think
I shrink

As you move on
I’m gone
Left this place
To a dark space,
As you mourn
I lay reborn.

by Chris Chant

Limbo

A nights sleep and the heart pumps bigger
Now what hits is the constant trigger

My skin is so wet, and my nerves are soaked
My soul is flat, and my will is choked

I feel there is light, I feel heat in my eyes
A brighter appearance brings up a good cry

I put down the bottle, throw down the cork
Open the door and skip as I walk

The outlook is clearer, different and real
Feels like the air, has shook off its chill

A smile breaks free, wide and thin
The combined warmth, comes from within

Another same day, from beginning to end
Half wearing the mask, half full of pretend

One extreme to the other, to which I seem bound
Desperately searching, for some middle ground.

by Chris Chant

Change the Ending

The mind is adept at its own pretence
When a foreseeable ending claws at its sense
Rapid spate of change is hard to allow
Crystal clear thoughts, deviate from the brow
An uncontrolled destined moment in time
Perspectives of honesty bring up the divine
Amnesiac spaces previous and after
Brings the transition, not nearer nor faster

Change sparks defence to raise fully clad
Denial, like a sane man humouring the mad
A rapid such ending wretches the soul
Pulls what we possess to never let go
Our sleepless gut instinct, repulses the last
Repelling an echo of struggles near past
For even the efficient an ending feels strange
A limbo state not desiring to change

An unconscious, unknown steadily beckons
Lifetime of intake, although its just seconds
Confusion is ripe though doesn’t persist
Without endings your presence wouldn’t exist
On ponder a moment which presents a choice
An alternate view to retain a lost voice
Reflect to proceed, an perceptive mind wins
Determine an ending, is where a new first begins.