A Poem.

Paul Holmes

Hi and many thanks for stopping by. I am 43 from London, married and work part time as a writer and part time as anything else that comes along. I was a train driver until 2003, but was injured during an incident. As a result the next 6 years were a constant struggle fighting depression, anxiety disorder, PTSD and anger management issues. I took up writing, via blog form in the 2005, I did this to try to make sense of everything that was going on around me. From these writings came my first book A Man Derailed, which tells the story of the crash and the aftermarth that followed.

The most important thing for me now is that I can write about all the troubles in past tense. I never dreamt that I would ever get to this point in my life, I do feel lucky, but it was a lot of hard work. I want to share those huge life changing moments that changed me, I want to show that there are things we can do to make our lives better. The importance of diet and exercise, getting back that quality of life we all deserve.

I still have my moments, that black cloud still lurks around the corner now and then. I still dream of a full nights sleep and find motivating myself impossible sometimes. However, I seem to have found some sort of strength to deal with this, so thankfully these bouts of depression do not seem to last as long as they used to.

I very much look forward to sharing this with you, and I hope you will share your thoughts with me as well.

I love writing poetry. It helps me get rid of the crap that goes round and round in my brain that sometimes prevents my creativity. This is a bit of self indulgence, so I appreciate that this may not be the sort of thing you would want to read on a site such as this. However, I feel that this sort of writing is a big help. Try it. You can keep them to yourself or put them out there, its a great feeling when someone says they have read it and they relate to it.

Seconds to go..

I am 15023750400 seconds old.

with only 11352960000 seconds to go.

what have I done?

what have i achieved?

where has the time gone?

wasted in black moods

wasted seconds on feeling sorry for myself.

the seconds tick

i can feel each and everyone of them

hurtling to my fate

like a lemming on prozac

fuck!

another 68 seconds gone

thats over a minute

what have I done?

Only11352959910 seconds to go

why didnt i loose weight

maybe add a few seconds more

even hours, dare i say it?

another 30 seconds

i need to write this faster

if i dont

i will be wasting precious seconds

time i could be doing something else

But what?

Only 11352959838 seconds to go

its really getting me down

each second passes in a very slow blink of an eye

stop blinking, thats it.

If I keep my eyes open

time will stand still

i wont get older

no more grey hairs and love handles.

Only 11352959763 seconds to go

my eye trick didnt work

damn

damn you time.

I need more of you.

Just give me back the years wasted in doom and gloom

i want the time back the black dog stole

the time i never smiled

give it back.

Only 11352959700 seconds to go

i never got those seconds back.

300 seconds since i started this

what else should I have done?

why am I wasting my seconds

Shit

Life is so short.

Only 11352959615 seconds to go.......

Comments

Submitted by Sarah Myles on Sat, 14/07/2012 - 12:23.

Ah, the number of panic attacks I've had due to these exact same thoughts! Very familiar to me. The thought that every second gone is just gone - never to be had again.

This poem is a perfect depiction of a negative thought spiral. Seeing it on a page, outside of the thought process, is very helpful for finding perspective and balance. Thanks for sharing it!

Sarah Myles

Submitted by Anonymous on Sat, 14/07/2012 - 12:43.

Wow this is anxiety in words, amazing. I almost had pulpatations just reading it. Brilliant work, are going to share more poems? i do hope so.

Submitted by Anonymous on Thu, 26/07/2012 - 22:02.

Thanks Paul, "..the black dog stole..." nice share.