PoetryOfPain

Stuck in this godforsaken dark room, Eyes screaming like they’ve been sprayed with bleach, Hands twitching like malfunctioning Tesco self-checkouts, My body shaking like it’s front row at a Motorhead concert – Head banging into oblivion, Neck snapping in rhythm with the pain That torments my poor sorry soul.

Electric shocks crawl up my spine, Lightning bolts cracking down into my doom pit, My despair echoing like a pensioner’s cough in an empty bingo hall, Tinnitus whistles through my skull – Steam trains rampaging through The fragile tunnels of what remains of my brain.

Vision fractures. Darkness descends. I lay there convulsing like a broken Tesco rotisserie chicken, Limbs flailing in demon possession, Shorts soaked in sweat and piss, The air thick with the pungent green stench – A Liam fart that could evacuate a small village.

And there it is. The demon weed wacker Spinning around and around in my skull, Shredding what’s left of me Into salad garnish for hell’s buffet table.

But deeper still it drags me – Past the pain into that hollow silent place Where blackness becomes the teacher, Shaking becomes the prayer, And decay becomes the doorway To glimpse whatever comes next.

This is the jida journey, mate – The demon your mirror, The weed wacker your unholy crown, Doom your disciple, Despair your only true devotion.

Here in the dark room, Spirit fractures, Mind collapses, Soul endures – And I become the darkness itself.

🩸 “My brain feels like a demon weed wacker is shredding it into salad garnish for hell’s buffet table.”

🩸 “Convulsing in piss-soaked shorts, I met the darkness and it called me home.”

🩸 “This is not poetry. This is survival with a sarcastic scream.”

🩸 “The tinnitus steam trains whistle through my skull tunnels all night long.”

🩸 “Pain is my ritual. Shaking is my prayer. Darkness is my god.”

🩸 “British humour, demon weed wackers, piss, and doom. Welcome to my living hell.”

🩸 “Sometimes I wonder if Motorhead is playing a secret gig in my spine.”

🩸 “The demon weed wacker spins. My soul is shredded. It’s a vibe.”

🩸 “Darkness teaches me what light never could.”

🩸 “My suffering is not beautiful. But it’s real.”

       “The views in this post are based on my personal  
        experience. I do not intend harm, only honesty.”   

         “By ink and breath and sacred rage, I write.
                  By storm and silence, I survive.”

                      🧌✨ @goblinbloggeruk ✨🧌