* This Borderline poem was written a week before I attempted to take my life (again).I ended up in Critical Care in a coma for 7 days & in ICU for a further 6 days. I was discharged from hospital on the 21st of May 2020 *

Please, make sense of reality.

Use a stream of consciousness

words to

 Vent,

rant,

rave,

A discovery in recovery

Fathom out sense because words are only as good as the interpreter.

Could add literary success to a Gravatar profile in an E-book

Add a few drafts poured into that fulminate crunched up chaos.

This doesn’t invoke a feeling of literary success.

Trying.

Struggling to convey all words .

Reciprocated words are often misinterpreted

Misheard

Another attempt to convey these words.

Perhaps one person will see this array of affray spread its torment defecating the inner spiral case of the

Mind,

It swirls down these steps in every way.

The moment to call it a day

This draws an outline forever to have the last say.

Hear me proclaim

This

Is

My

Life.

Don’t want to carry on living this way

Shame lingers

It overstays — the bailiff texts for rent arrears

Read,

What is laid down?

Listen

I’m not done yet.

Hanging by a thread it’s tethered

Seen many days to identify as weathered

Hanging by a thread

This is my life purpose!

Final chance to meet my fate

Waited for this all my life

A mystery date with a severed soul mate.

Taught & tethered & weathered is this rope

To late

convinced

I’m no tightrope walker.

I’ve become my own word stalker.

Shoulda, coulda, woulda arrested these rants before my digress

Covert corner

Wait in this hidden corner.

Evidently I’ve learned that survival is innate.

It ain’t easy to digest the days I’m not blessed to eat from a plate.

keep rising up despite a lifetime’s worth of trip-ups.

Until I die

One fine day

I’ll face the final exit of my mortality

I’ll know the truth

Either way it’s gonna end up with a body

Fatality.

Subconsciously know why I feel

It’s called humanity

What do I know about that damp dark corner entertaining souls I’ve yet to meet?

Going to have to wait for a promising future chance we haven’t dreamt of taking yet.

If I lose all memory

Forget those words 

soggy, wet, lost to another realm of the bereft

Lest I forget.

I write to recover.

Be happy or die trying.

Simultaneously a resilient species & inconveniently inept.