Reasons Why I love you

Ben,
You're devotion to your beliefs makes me wish i could have the kind of strength you have. You're the only person in the world that i have pretty much everything in common with and even on my worst days, just getting to talk to you makes me happy.
You have a great sense of style and an amazing taste in music.
I love how you like to joke around, and can make me laugh like no one else.
I love how much you worry about things cause they are important to you, and how smart you are; You're always the best for a good debate.
I love how you make me feel like i've got a reason to wake up in the morning
I love your cleverness and your shy but also outgoing personality.
I love that Having you in my life makes me feel like everything is perfect, even if everything is going wrong.
I love how you You give me something to look forward to everyday...
I love the fact that you're an amazing person and no one else in the world could ever replace you...
I love that you came into my life completely by chance, but i feel like my life would be empty now without you in it...

I know things between us are strange, and different...and our lives always seem to be trying to get us down... But if there's one thing I want out of life, its you...
Im sorry things aren't better...I'd make everything perfect for you if i could..
I only want what's best for you...and perhaps you don't think its me...If it will make you happy, i'll get out of your life...And you can find your own path.. I dont want to hold you back anymore...I love you too much to know i may be keeping you from being happy...

When will it end?

No food
No water
No tears
No pain
No sad
No Glad
Anger?
NO.
A Windowless room
Empty
Full
Glass wall
Falling Falling
Down
Down
Down
Where are you now?
Come Back
Come Back
He dreams
She screams
Silent....
....
.....
.......
........
..
...
Has time past?
Speed
Rhythm
No Control
Where am i now?
No recognition
Familiarity
Mind says no
Body Doesnt react
Who is saying these things?
Not me
Not Self
Not I.
I remember
Everything
Nothing
These memories
Aren't mine
Eyes Closed
YOU
YOU
YOU
AWAY
I am alone
Who has control?
NO ONE.

Morning

i woke up
sunlight shining on my pale cold skin
It was morning and i knew then
i was livid with fear
I was shaken with hate
To put it simply i was terrified
In this jumbled up
messed up
fucked up state

My mind spins

I glance at the clock
It was broken
I looked down at my feet
they were bare
I put my coat on and stepped out
Into the sun
Into the cold
Onto the pavement

Small rocks
tiny rocks
Glass
Cigarettes

The ground is so dirty
The earth i stand on
such filth

I reached for the newspaper
i dont read them

My chair
Empty Chair
Red Chair
Velvet
Sipped my morning tea

No thoughts
only sounds
Tick Tick Tick
Hot metal

Most dont stop to listen and feel
Thump thump thump
Heart
Thump Thump

Theres a crack in the wood on the floor
An old mans face
He doesnt look happy
Theres a knot in the plank
An eye

The picture frame is crooked
And the room is cold
I could see my breath

A shiver down my spine
Back to bed
but i felt fine

Theres a hole in my blanket
duvet
Sheets
Matress
The springs creaked

Thump Thump Thump
i heard it
beating
my ear was pressed upon the pillow

The sun shown on the floor.

John Killingrew

John Killingrew
Adley Lattin

27, September, the Accident
Jonathan Killingrew was a pretty normal man, relative to other people anyway. He had a house, a job, and was typically sane, other than his depressed state. He had suffered from depression ever since his wife died in a train crash three years prior.
The last thing John knew, he was on his way home from a business trip in Leeds, and it was a foggy September night. Now, not even recalling who he was, as he briefly came back into world, the light shone bright in his eyes. For a moment he couldn’t see. Everything was blurry, and the loud screeching noises around the accident made even his thoughts hard to make out. “Where am I?” John thought. “What’s going on?” he said aloud in a half conscious voice. “You’ve been in a terrible car accident.” A man’s voice said, “The other driver is dead. You’re very lucky to be alive.” John Killingrew slipped back out of consciousness.

3 Days Later, the Hospital
The old worn out hospital smelled of urine, and disinfectant. The ugly pea green paint was peeling off the wall like dead skin. The wallpaper in the hallway looked like it had been there since the seventeenth century, and gave the hospital a morose appearance, and certainly a haunting feeling of mourning and death. Though there were some modern renovations to the hospital, they were none too pleasing. The bright flickering fluorescent lights caused migraines and made gave a feeling of nausea to anyone who was under them for too long. The pathetic dying plants in the pots by the nurses’ station definitely made the hospital only seem more dreary and the bars on the windows made it feel like a prison or an insane asylum...forever keeping its patients inside for torment.
The moans of a new burn victim patient being placed on his bed in the next ward woke John at half seven in the morning. This was the first time John was fully awake since before the accident. Not recalling what had happened, John looked around with discomfort, and confusion; he felt out of body, like he was in a dream. It only took moments for him to realise he was in a hospital, and it was then he frantically grabbed for the nurses pager. When a nurse finally came round John asked her what was going on. “You were in a horrible car accident three days ago. You don’t have any broken bones, but you kept slipping in an out of consciousness, and a couple of your ribs are bruised.” She said. Her name was Sheila, as John read on her nametag. “I see. What about the other driver? Do you know what happened to them?” John said. “I was told by one of the paramedics that the other driver was found dead at the scene. They weren’t wearing a seatbelt and went straight through the wind screen.” said Sheila. John didn’t speak; he could only sit silently, staring off into the distance, with a look of disbelief and slight terror.

3 October, the Beginning
John was glad to be leaving the hospital. He had spent the last 3 days in misery. He was constantly being annoyed by the screaming and moaning patients in the burn ward, which kept him from sleeping. The constant migraine from the combination of the head injuries he suffered in the accident, the stench of disinfectant, urine, and occasionally vomit had him in agony, and he was rather angry from the lack of care he got from the nurses.
When John arrived home he couldn’t be happier to be in a familiar place. He wasn’t feeling up to par yet, so he went to bed straight away. John fell fast into a much need slumber the moment his head touched his pillow. He was completely exhausted from being in pain, and he hadn’t gotten much sleep while he was in the hospital.
John slept through the rest of the day and did not wake up until the next morning. During breakfast that morning he was enjoying his hot cup of earl when in the distance he heard “Jonathan...Jonathan...” from what sounded like a woman. He did not share his house with anyone, nor did he have any close neighbours, so this voice startled him a bit. John, more curious than worried, put down his tea and began going about the house searching for the owner of the voice he had just heard. With no luck, John returned to his dining room table to finish his breakfast, and he quickly put it in his mind that it was nothing. He continued on through his day, doing his normal tasks; having a shower, getting dressed, having a walk around the park near his house, and feeding the pigeons and crows dried old bread, and then checking his post box.

4 October, Madness
An ordinary day was just beginning for John...or so it seemed. He went through his normal daily rituals like normal. He was on his way to the shops at half three in the afternoon, walking the pavements in the pouring rain, when he heard the same woman’s voice calling his name. “John....John! John Killingrew!” He quickly spun around, looking for whoever was calling to him, but no one was to be seen. The streets were barren on account of the rain and cold weather. He continued on. Then, suddenly the voice returned. This time it was deep and low, like a man’s voice. “Jonathan Killingrew. You’re worthless. Everyone hates you. All you do is make mistakes. Your wife is dead because of you. You told her to take that train. You might as well give up lad... Just jump into the road and let that coach hit you. Spare the world, take yourself out of it. Come on now...Just do it.” John became somewhat confused and afraid so he quickly ran into the nearest shop trying to escape the voice.
It was to no avail though, for when he entered the shop, the voice only got louder, shouting at him now. “Can you hear that?” John asked the shopkeeper. “Hear what?” The shopkeeper said confused. “That man, shouting at Me.” said John. The shopkeeper looked puzzled. “The only man I hear is you.” said the shopkeeper. John Killingrew, quite embarrassed and terrified now, ran frantically out of the shop, and down the street. He ran all the way back to his house, the voices still shouting at him the entire way back.
When he got to his house, the voices subsided. John thought they had gone, but a couple of hours passed and they returned; whispering this time. “You should kill yourself. No one wants you here. You made her die John. She wouldn’t have gotten that train if it weren’t for you.” Scared for his sanity now, John quickly found his telephone and rang his therapist, Dr. Botsworth. “Doctor Botsworth, I desperately need your help. I keep hearing these voices shouting at me. At first I thought maybe someone was playing a joke on me, but now the voices won’t leave me alone. They’re following me, everywhere I go. They keep calling me. Telling me to kill myself, telling me Anne’s death was my fault.” said John in a frightened voice. “Calm down John. First off, when did you first start hearing these voices?” said Dr. Botsworth.
The conversation continued for the next fifteen minutes or so. John explained to him all the events that preceded this phone call. Dr. Botsworth told John that because of the accident, the time spent in the hospital, and the stress he’s been under from everything, the voices might just be his brain reacting to the stress, and they’re all just in his head. He also told John the best thing for him to do would be to relax as much as possible, to try and take it easy for the next couple of days and see if things don’t get better.
John tried to listen to his doctor, but it was only a few hours after the phone call when the voices returned. John was lying on his bed trying to get to sleep, when he heard the voice again, this time coming from the hall. “Jonathan. Jonathan... Wake up. Come here Jonathan.” The voice sounded like Anne. Unnerved but curious, John called to the voice. “Anne? Is that you Anne?” “Jonathan...Help me Jonathan...” the voice called. John, half asleep, got out of bed and walked to his doorway and looked into the hallway. In the dark he could see a figure. He stepped a bit closer, and the being began to look familiar. “Anne?” he questioned. “Yes Jonathan. It’s me. I’ve missed you so much.” said the figure. John went to step closer. The being suddenly laughed a demonic witch like laugh that turned deep and low and the being burst into flames. Terrified, John ran back to his room and locked the door. He turned the lights on, and quickly got back into bed and covered his entire body, trying to make himself feel safe from what he tried to convince was only a dream. A few hours of silence passed, and John had calmed down enough to fall back asleep.

3 Weeks Later, Losing Touch
Three weeks had gone by now, and the voices still tormented John, keeping him in a constant dejected state. He had tried to go to the doctor but the voices got louder each time and he couldn’t even make it to the end of the garden. They threatened him, teased him, mocked him, and constantly told him to kill himself. He had become completely disconnected from everyone, and could hardly function at all. He wasn’t sleeping, he wasn’t eating, he couldn’t think, and could hardly speak. All he heard were the voices, mocking him, taunting him, confusing him, and shouting at him. John soon began to lose touch completely. He spent his days sitting in the corner of his living room in his favourite red velvet chair, staring at the wall, trying as hard as he could to make the voices stop. But they surrounded him. They were all he could hear.
It was nearly midnight, and the voices had been haunting John for nearly four weeks now. He was deteriorating, mentally and physically. Finally, John couldn’t take it anymore. He walked up his stairs, and into his bathroom. He looked into the mirror, his eyes were drooping and barren, his soul nearly evaporated from losing his connection with himself and the rest of the world...the voices were still calling him, tormenting him...telling him to kill himself. Finally, John gave in.
He turned his bath on, filling the tub with warm water. He stripped of himself of his shirt and trousers, socks and shoes. He stood in his boxer shorts looking into the mirror. “I can’t. I just can’t. I can’t bear this anymore.” John had started believing the voices. He blamed himself for Anne’s death, and had sunk into a complete and utter depression. “It will all be over. And then, then, I can finally rest.” He said to himself aloud.
He opened his medicine cabinet, and removed his shaving razor. He separated the blades and set them on the counter next to the basin. He removed his boxers and slowly stepped into the still running bathtub, half full with water. He reached for the blade off the counter and then slowly sat down into the water. He took a deep breath and held it in. As he clenched his eyes closed, he put the cold steel razor to the thin skin and flesh on his wrist. John dragged the razor through his flesh, severing his veins and nerves. The hot burning sensation filled his arm and spread through his body. “Only one left, and then it’s over.” He thought. The voices became louder. “You killed her. She died because of you John. You don’t deserve to live.” John struggled to hold the razor in his other hand, crimson life pouring out of him. Shaking, he put the razor to his other wrist and dragged it vertically down, cutting as deep as he could. Blood poured out of him and his bath turned dark red. It wasn’t long before John started to feel weak and tired.
No longer able to hear the voices, nor feel the burning pain in his arms. He let his arms fall into the warm water of his bath, the faucet still running. John closed his eyes, slowly letting go, preparing to depart the world.

Suddenly, a light shone in his eyes. “He’s awake!” someone shouted. He couldn’t see at first, only white filled his vision. When his eyes cleared he looked around. John was in the hospital, lying in a bed. His two best friends, Tommy, and Jonzy were at his side staring down at him, along with a nurse. John raised his arms to have a viddy, and found no scars or bandages. “Wh..Why am I here? Wh..what happened?” said John, with a confused look upon his face. He couldn’t understand why there were no marks on his arms. “You were in a terrible car accident 2 months ago. You’ve been in a coma.” said Tommy. John’s face went white for a moment. “I, I was dying. Blood everywhere...the burning pain in my arms...the water...the tub...” John thought to himself. He was confused, though acted like nothing had happened. “Was anyone else injured in the accident?” John asked. “I was told by one of the paramedics that the other driver was found dead at the scene. They weren’t wearing a seatbelt and went straight through the wind screen.” said the nurse. This sounded a bit familiar to John, though he dismissed it. He had a long look at the nurse and then at her name tag. SHEILA. “That’s strange...it’s only a coincidence though.” He tried to convince himself. He then looked around the hospital. Same peeling green paint, ancient wall paper, dying plants, and that terrible aroma of disinfectant and urine... John was perplexed. “How could this be happening again? He thought. “I’ve been here before.” John said aloud to himself. “That’s not likely.” said Tommy. “What?” said John, not knowing he that he had said it aloud. “They have no records of you here.” said Tommy. He tried to put it out of his mind. “Maybe it’s just déjà vu. Maybe I just think I’ve been here before.” John thought. He put it all out of his mind.

One Week later
After leaving the hospital, his friends dropped him off back at his house. Flustered, tired, and worn from everything John went to bed. Just as he started to go to sleep, a voice woke him. “Jonathan.....Jonathan...”

Eyes so Vacant- Original Song

You keep asking why - Original Poem

So many colours washed over canvas
Expressions up on face
Nose, mouth, teeth, and eyes
Words empty, and words full
Words that fill and tell...
words of heaven and words of hell.

The things you've said
cement in my head...

I love you again.

The thoughts and feelings that change
my life a song..notes rearranged

Beautiful maple neck
strings of nickel and copper
smooth vibrations
angry screech of desolation

Messed up Government
and a fucked up nation
hate that drives love
and hopelessness...

My eyes Burn.

You were there
and now you disappear
you've gone away again..

I miss you.

The things you changed
my life so strange...
interesting, a word in the least..

Your eyes, your smile
the words we share..
A world so broken and yet so put
TOGETHER..
"try as you might" you said, " you'll never work it out...it just is and that's why."

The music, the pain, the sorrow,
the tears, the anger..
Shouting.

I feel alive
but wonder if I'm dead inside.

The questions, they keep me going
waking up hoping to be just a day closer..
to an answer
or at least a reason..

EDL and BNP
Music, art, and anarchy
Sid Vicious, and Johnny Rotten
teenage angst long forgotten

Hatred and isolation
trying to keep it together in a divided nation
The country i hate
and the country i love
Trying to leave...just want to be there..
It's where I'm meant to be

Colour
Acrylic
Pop art and DADA
Rene Magritte and the strangers i meet
Andy Warhol
Roy Lichtenstein as well
Ian Curtis for so many reasons i cannot begin to tell

She's lost control again...

Worn out eyes
and a tired smile
i haven't felt a thing in quite a while
but then there you are

A year and a half i have spoken to you
talked and talked about where, what and who..
music we love, and music we hate..
our fucked up countries and my fucked up state..
Of mind.

Words so sweet, and words so kind..
words that break and then remind..
you're not quite there yet..

The Libertines
and my fucked up dreams..
i believed i was there..

Days spent in the library, reading those same pages and titles again and again..
Art, Music, words, thoughts and feelings
FILMS

Maybe I'm just trainspotting again
a clockwork orange
J.D. Salinger
The Mighty Boosh
The Beatles, The Beatles, The Beatles..

John Lennon said Imagine,
and i did just that..
Imagined a world of nothing..
an empty white room, and there i sat
I filled empty pages
and painted blank canvas
Put my dreams down on paper..
for everyone to see.

More of me art :D