On Friday night I had a blowout
I drank a six pack of beer and smoked two single skinned up joints
The beer was fresh from the local shop
But the weed was nearly a year old
It was my attempt at suicide
After the joints and downing the last of the sixth beer
I was feeling sick as I smoked on a conventional cigarette
As I lay my head on the toilet bowl waiting for it to come out
My head was being dragged down by an invisible force
I thought I was going to die like some of the greats
Local and global
I suddenly realised I didn’t want to die like that
As I got myself out of this vortex and walked back into my bedroom
I was starting to sweat in cold air
While taking off my cardigan and boots
I could only see the only daughter I will ever have
My dog Candy
And all I could think and say to her was I’m so sorry honey I have let you down
I dropped down on the bed like death
I was certain I was going to die from this ordeal
A little while later I made another trip to the bathroom
There was still no sick
And I even thought I would shit myself at one point
Once again I made it back into the bedroom with my dogs tail wagging
I still thought and said I’m sorry darling I have let you down so bad
There was one thing for certain as I went through these half-drunk and stoned visions
I didn’t care about my writing
What I did care about was leaving my beautiful Candy behind
It really put everything into perspective for me
No writing
Just love to live for
That’s pretty funny for any dedicated artist
As I lay there swimming through the universe I knew it was about to happen
I didn’t have the energy to get up again so I puked on my already dirty bedroom floor
From there and having puke in my hair I passed out for an hour
When I awoke from those forty winks I felt rejuvenated but I needed food
And something to watch as a distraction
I made a chicken sandwich with crisps and some chocolate
And I put on some Podge and Rodge
A scare at bedtime
What a classic
As I finished off my food and listening to those Irish puppets
I didn’t know if I was going to get any sleep again
But as the DVD was coming to an end I passed out
Of course the next day I was as hungover as fuck
And I had a hint of paranoia from the weed
I needed coffee and water all morning
I also knew I needed a bath so I put on the water heater
And I knew there was no way I was going to be able to face the world
So I text my mum to see if she could go to the shop for me and she said yes
I had my bath and dried myself off
Don’t worry I got the dog walked okay
I lay on the bed for a while with nothing but a towel on
I eventually got dressed and then my mum entered
I didn’t really want to talk about what I tried to do
So I told her a little fib
I told her I had a few too many beers
Nothing about the weed or the suicide attempt
We ate our food and had a pleasant chat as I downed half a litre of orange Lucozade
She left and I didn’t feel too bad at that point
I knew I needed to watch something to take my mind away from things
But I sat talking to my own god
And I even took a wank
After a while I started feeling like shite again and took a diazepam
I would feel like this for the rest of the night
And even feeling like I was going to take a heart attack
I just didn’t want those hot sweats again
I would fall asleep eventually and wake up to the next dawning morning
And again I felt like shite
But I did my usual routine without the help of my mother
That was a Sunday and this feeling would continue into Monday
As today came
This is a Tuesday
This is the first day I felt alive and healthy again
Now I’m sitting writing down all this bullshit
In order to move like the machine I am with words
And of course love
With all the talking I did from being unhealthy
I could have written a dozen poems or a story or a screenplay or even an article
But something really stood out to me today as the sun shines through the blinded moon
When I was a youngster I felt nobody cared what I had to say
Like when all the adults were talking shite
Or when I was skating with my friends
Or past girlfriends I had
Or even fucking counsellors I’ve talked to
I always felt like they dismissed important shit I was trying to say
Like a pop up on your computer telling you they are keeping you safe and you click dismiss
It always seemed like they blanked that stuff coming out of my mouth
Until someone else said something better
They became more interested in what they had to say over yours
So when this writing and poetry bullshit came into my life
I took it because I felt like I could voice my opinions
And if they were interested in what you had to say
They would read it
They would listen to it
They would watch it
They would even come out to hear it
I guess this is why I do this and why I am so fond of it
I am not in it like most to be a genius
I am in it to have a voice in the world
When I felt like people didn’t want to listen
I know every writer thinks what they write is great
But you’re just another scribbler
Just like me and most of the world
I believe every writer has one good piece of writing in them
One that will make their career
Some will make millions from it
Fans and the money
But I know myself that I will only speak to the underground
Maybe I’ve already written my one good piece
Or maybe not yet
But either way it will come
Or maybe it already has
But what I realised after three days of paranoia and ill health is
That love is more important than being a cynical artist
I know the ending is the best part of any writing
As I leave it here and walk away to feed my dog
Maybe drink another coffee and smoke another cigarette
Wishing only the best for you out there in this world
& hoping for no more death
Paul Butterfield Jr
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