The Club

Lights strobing fast, lasers dance, music howls the discord of youth, we’re the outcasts and this was our haven. Sweat dripping from walls, drug deals in shady corners, even the police came in riot gear to visit out hell tech heaven.

In the middle I sat on a beer stained sofa, seeing through the haze of the latest buzz, self medication. It seemed we thrived on the trauma, heading God speed to our own eradication.

It felt like home, it felt like hell and brought you here to see the spectacular. I’d stunned you and lead you gently into my arms, for me this was normal, nothing peculiar.

Six am the lights go off and the music dies, I take you to the harsh daylight outside. Two wasted souls, holding each other up with our brains fried.

D March 2017


man-with-stick-going-homeDidn’t know what this would be, youth clouding my eyes so I could not see.

Welcomed to my hurricane, fast nights, fast bikes and behavior far from sane.

You flew in on the wrong runway, I was shattered man and you just wanted to play.

Dug your needles in my frontal lobes, yeah hell, lets give this LSD a go.

Chaos, eye of the storm, broken bones, hung up phones.

So you cling to my back as I hurtle down the highway, time for you fly away.

So till next time when you need a quick fix, you joke that your little island is where your type mix.

I knew that would be the last of it, I had already dug a hole for my heart with a nice tight fit.

I’d bury it there with all my useless things, like my mind and fallen wings.

D March 2017



twistedRun around the underground.

Follow the trails of the sound.

The tiled walls on the floor.

Pass the body of the whore.

Duck from the echoes around the street.

The pitter patter of your feet.

Jump the curb and hit the road.

Dodge the cars in psycho mode.

The adrenaline is running thin.

Take a piss by a bin.

Looking up to cast a stare.

Your bleeding eyes don’t seem to care,

Of what’s all around, it can’t detect.

These other faces contain no threat.

So ask yourself “So where are you?”

Subsonic space is something new.

Deepening black, chemical flak.

You hit the ground and something cracks.

The blackness clears, replaced by fear.

Spurting blood is all you hear.

You’ve hit the floor with your senses wrapped.

Nothingness, your neck has snapped.

Straight off the edge and hit the abyss.

Try and survive, it’s you last wish.

Your heart burst out with infinite guilt.

For all the things you could have built.

The crying minds last thought is flying.

Without these drugs, it would not be dying.

D 2003