There was this bubbling tension in my chest. I mumbled apologies as I shuffled closer to the front. My mind numb with panic. I could smell the alcohol on the bar circulating the tightly enclosed space. I could feel the hot pressure building and the friction between bodies heating up the room. I could taste the paleness of my gum. My head was swirling with the lack of fluids and food. The smell of the obvious drug use somewhere in the vicinity made my stomach lurch forward and force a gag up my throat violently. I closed my eyes and swayed to the sound of drunkenness and excited chatter. I tried to focus on zoning out.

Everyone has their high. Alcoholics, romantics, adrenaline junkies, and actual junkies. I guess this is mine. And most people feel the downer after the high, the heartbreak or the hangover, I feel the downer before the high. The nervous buzz in my chest willing me to turn around and walk to the back of the club and just watch from where I could breathe clean air and lean against the back wall for support. That is what I had to endure before I could grasp the high.

My feet were aching. I had been standing in the same position for two hours and even the comfiest of shoes couldn’t keep my soles from screaming for a release of tension. A one leg balancing act, learned only a year before, can help for a while releasing the tension, one foot at a time and it gave me something else to focus on; not falling on the people around me.

The place is getting tighter. My airways were closing like the gaps between the people who surrounded me. I was squished against some speakers by ribs bruising and my knees scraping against the low stage. I tried to gasp for air and focusing on my breathing. In for four. Hold for four. Out for eight. A methodically calming exercise used almost daily for my anxiety-ridden mind. I had grown accustomed to the chest throb and agonisingly paralysing panic which can ripple through my body at any moment. But this time it was self-inflicted. I had chosen to make my way into this cesspit of trepidation within my mind. I placed myself in my worst nightmare.

Why?

For the same reason, the hopeless romantic falls too quickly in love again and again and again. For the same feeling, the addict gets when they go back for another hit. For the high. I wanted to escape from the congested people, feel the cold night air hit my lungs and the space of the darkened streets replace the bodies of the strangers around me. But the tightening feeling only meant one thing. I was going to get my next hit in only moments. I was going feel the punch in my chest the scream of my lungs and the burn of my skin as I let the intoxication push against every blood vessel until they explode from the blissed-out pleasure.

The room darkened. The drunken mumbles came to a standstill and I could hear the movement in front of me. I couldn’t seem to peel my eyes open just yet, preparing myself for the explosion of noise which will erupt at any moment. I smiled at the crackle of the speakers and I inhaled slowly. The abuse of my eardrums began in a clatter of crashing musical fire. The loud and unfathomable noise which was headache provokingly loud compared to the calming mumbles which had once filled my mind. But a headache was worth it, the entire basement moved as one, the crowd smashing up against each other in a messy unison to the beat of the screams coming from in front of me. I swayed with the crowd, feeling the thump of the bass replace the throbbing ache of panic in my chest. I could feel the much-needed thrill tingle through my skin, press against my forehead in the form of sweat and the tension floated from my mind like a balloon in the wind. I grinned. I sucked in the stench of stale smoke and sweat mixed with the concoction of alcohol. I pushed against the crowd my feet no longer feeling the strain for the unit block of fumbled bodies supported my tiny frame.

I was no longer thinking about my breathing. It just happened naturally now. My veins were buzzing from the music. I couldn’t think about anything, except how light I felt as if everything that was holding me so solidly to the wooden floor had evaporated into the musky air and decided to sit at the bar until I was done having my fun before it would begin niggling in my mind once again. A break from life, a bubble of gleaming light and the panting recital of lyrics. Time moves so quickly when you’re in that chest numbing state. I was being pinned against the speakers and the stage and my chest was constricted not from panic but from the full force of the crowd behind me. The music was thrumming through me like morphine making me unaware of the dark bruises staining my legs and the pain in my head from the pounding drum. My heart was now thudding to the beat of the bass instead of the beat on my apprehension.

I was dizzy.  But, the swirling buzz from the music loosened my tightened limbs and let me freely move around swaying my arms in the air ridiculously and sing from the top of my lungs every single lyric. My gum had a taste again and I muttered thanks to myself for staying brave when the panic took over. The dazzling lights from the stage illuminated the space around me and I could see my shaking hands pushed out in front of me swaying to the rhythm of the music and I remember how they seem to float with no effort at all. My body was suspended in the air with nothing but the drug to keep me afloat.

There was no downer. The high lasts for days from my self-induced terror attack. I can smile tragically at the solid bruising forming on my body from the night before. My bruises are the addict’s injections marks, the romantics love bites, the adrenaline junkies battle scars. There is no such thing as a harmless high, but mine is easier than most.

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New Years

On the 30th of December, you are bombarded with the declarations of good health, of alcohol’s retirement, and tobacco’s surrender. But, you laugh at them and think of something deeper that you can home in all your attention and spindle into greatness in the new year. 2018. For as long as I can remember I have set myself the resolution of facing my fears. It has worked. From auditioning for the local musical to going to gigs on my own and getting my nose pierced to moving away from home. I don’t know if I’ve got much fear left in me, but it’s the feeling of determination. Because I would look back on a year and think ‘what did I really do?’ and I would remember how I went on a rollercoaster and travelled around the country and photographed my favourite band and worked in a proper theatre and wrote a play and a poem and how all those were once fears. I am scared of everything and it holds me back, pushing me into failure and darkness and holding me there until the opportunity is gone, but setting myself that one resolution makes me want to fight against it.

So this year I will not be eating healthier or running more or giving up smoking or wine. But I will face my fears…like last year and the year before that and I hope, with all my being, that it will end in greatness like this year and the last.

Two Thousand and Seventeen

Okay. 2017. You weren’t a great year…in music or politics or anything to be utterly honest. 2016 beat you in terms of tunes and the world seems to still be spiraling. But, if you look deep enough, there were a few good albums this year and I struggled to pick a top five so along with my usual round-up I’ve made a little playlist full of my favorite songs from 2017. Let’s call that it the ‘Honorable Mentions’ playlist. My top five are, like my 2016 pick, varied and messy, but they were the albums that sparkled through the bad year of music we have experienced.

5) Connect the Dots- Misterwives.

4) The Canyon- The Used.

3) HFK- Halsey.

2) Going Grey- The Front Bottoms.

1) Damn- Kendrick Lamar.

Catch my playlist here: https://itunes.apple.com/gb/playlist/2017/pl.u-zPyLl9LCePaA7o

 

 

Untitled

Sometimes, a butterfly will float through the air

Collecting speed behind and spinning into gales

It never lands on our side, but it will stare

With stone eyes and wings with coloured scales

 

A muted jade sparkles in the splitting light

And spirals of colour run wild in the breeze

Everything I’ve ever seen has been a grey goodnight

And anything we touch is plagued with disease

 

The butterfly will remind us of before the end

it will tap on our rotting skin and sing and dance

make it easier to lie and painless to pretend

like we aren’t dead or dying, that there’s a chance

 

We are nothing but bone now, rapped in crumbling skin

Sunless eyes stare and paper thin frames quiver

All tied together by striped uniforms soaked in sin

Sin that does not to belong to us, but helps us wither

 

It cannot be the same butterfly every time

that lands and sews delicately that smile to my face

the butterfly is a bright light against the grime

but he gets to leave, while I am stuck in place

 

I wish I could fly away from the death that is ahead

But the butterfly abandons me, he leaves me for dead.

The spiders’ web obscures my vision

A patterned obstacle

Droplets of water decorate the arachnids

dining table.

I can see shrubbery beyond the reflective embellishment

But it is too far out of reach.

A broken picture scuffed with age.

Stomachache.

Side Effects

My skin is infested 

sucker marks on pale skin

I detest it

portraits of original sin

 

Scarring redness

peaceful translucent 

mindfulness a mess

living feels lucid

 

Purged of positivity 

Heavy with thought 

Misplaced creativity 

I begin to rot

 

From the inside

I need rest

Sorry I haven’t replied

but you’ve been suppressed 

 

Radiant smile

inconsolable heart

eyes hostile 

I can’t tell them apart

 

Muddled spirit 

feeling astray

nightmares vivid

when is the next ‘good-day’

 

Where I laugh

and feel human 

but only for the first half

the darkness is always looming

Where Do I Belong?

I will lie in my city bed

Wishing for my melancholy home

Sleeping in lights

Murdered by homesickness syndrome

 

I dream about being missed

Or of the old crooked tree

I just want to be kissed

By the homelike smell of the sea

 

Cuddled by home

And suffocated by love

Yet I feel so alone

I am the spy they want to get rid of

 

My childhood sings in the air

Memories stick to the leaves

In this spot, people seem to care

About what the other believes

 

This place never wanted me

I was made for the city streets

So why does this town hold the key

For where my heart and head meet

 

Unlock my hatred

For these people who roam

The only thing in common

Is we call the same town ‘home’

 

And when I wonder the little lanes

I crave the taste

Of the city planes

And I kick at the concrete waste

 

For why would I want to be in the place

Where everything is scarce

When I can be in the cold embrace

The of the cities circus

 

I don’t want to here

In the rotten town

And I hate to be there

Where the lights beat me down

 

Because I don’t want to be anywhere.

Untitled.

The night we first met

we used  headstones as resting posts

as we had the littlest respect

for the long gone and restless ghosts

 

Drunk on technicoloured poison

and high on the scent of dead flowers

I asked you please take joy in

these lonely early morning hours

 

Paint us a story

of a graveyard far away

nothing too gory

where everything is grey.

 

Giggle and whisper

don’t wake the already dead

the night air getting crisper

I can’t remember anything we said

 

Buried in the moment

I think the police came

and the hangover seemed worth it

because I’d always take the blame

 

Running from the dead

or maybe from the police

in any direction we fled

our friendship is a masterpiece

 

Paint us a story

of a graveyard far away

nothing too gory

where everything is grey.

I Wanna Talk About Time & Words.

Word’s terrify me. They grip onto me so tightly and they never let go. They burrow themselves inside my mind and make me sob. I can’t get rid of the words. That’s what writer’s block feels like; I guess. I had an issue there with grammar did the block belong to the writer? I feel like I belong to it sometimes. I haven’t written poetry in a while only because I can only be a poet when the block has me. It’s cathartic while the words latch onto my brain and refuse to settle into the crisp white paper or onto the blank screen. I have an old one though that I will share with you after this. A poem about a graveyard for a friend of a friend. A poem I forgot about until a few days ago.

Let’s talk time for a moment. How it hangs from branches in the sky and puddles at your feet. How sometimes it rains and pours and how sometimes it dries out your lungs. I want to forget time exists for a moment. But time is the moment I seek and everything adds up to the minutes and seconds it takes for you to close your eyes and fall asleep.

Maybe I am being idiotic when I feel like time holds me back, but every day would feel incomplete if time didn’t start over again. I hate the end of days and moments and trips and…

I haven’t been writing poetry. I have gotten over the writer’s block which was tying me to the confinements of rhymes and metaphors. But with untying those tight knots I discovered what it felt like to have time move quickly again. A month without writing anything but poetry. A month without any progress on any of my work. A month of freedom? Maybe. Nothing moved and neither did I.

I forgot about this blog because I was writing about things that seemed to be more important. A friend of mine started writing and I remembered it had been a while. I am sorry for the nothingness.

-L

Music?

Hey, dudes, sorry for the radio silence the last few days I’ve been focusing on building some more of my photography portfolio which you guys can check out in the Facebook link below. Poems are coming soon since everyone seems to like hearing them. But for now, I wanna give you a small music update.

Last year was outstanding for new albums and music. We had new Kanye and Beyonce content in the urban world. Lady Gaga came back with a new sound in the form of ‘Joanne’. New Frank Iero, Taking Back Sunday and Against Me, album’s gracing our ears. The Weekend even decided to drop by and treat us some more. But one thing that did surprise us all was the reappearance of Electric Century with ‘For The Night To Control’.

A smooth almost electronic indie vibe is set throughout the album and it’s honestly kind of mesmerising. Now, why am I bringing up this album again when I already reviewed it last year? Well, for the unlucky few who didn’t get a version of it last time will get another chance. They have revamped the album and are bringing it out for everyone to enjoy not just us few UK Kerrang readers.

Now, if you haven’t heard of Electric Century then get ready to hear your new favourite band. I’ll leave some links below to their music you can listen to for free. They were kind enough to give away the album last year and that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t support them this time around.

To give you a short quote from my review last year:

‘’For The Night To Control’ is out and it doesn’t get any better than this people. Mikey Way and David Debiak have created this wonderful project called ‘Electric Century’ and it’s blowing our minds. Get yourself some headphones and a spare hour for this one. It is incredibly immersive and outstandingly mesmerising. The vocals are softly dragging you through this beautiful masterpiece and while I can’t yet differentiate between many songs it is an album you can lose yourself in.’

Please pre-order this album and give it a listen. I promise you won’t regret it. Till next time…

-L

( Pre-order and listen here: http://www.electriccentury.com )