Oh captain my captain.

Grey days, mind haze, so self inflicted. Rain drops, time stops, surreal and depicted. Sore head, warm bed, outsides restricted, No food, It’s  no good, I’m going to be sick. Wind blows, headache grows, stomach rumbles on. Cold skin, patients thin,  wishing I was done. Dry eyes, deep sighs I want this feeling gone. It’s…

Grey days, mind haze, so self inflicted. Rain drops, time stops, surreal and depicted. Sore head, warm bed, outsides restricted, No food, It’s  no good, I’m going to be sick.

Wind blows, headache grows, stomach rumbles on. Cold skin, patients thin,  wishing I was done. Dry eyes, deep sighs I want this feeling gone. It’s no good, I NEED food, oh why was I a dick? 

No spit, that’s it, my bodies giving in. Eyes fade, my beds made. I’m really struggling. Fingers froze, so’s my nose, I’ll never drink again. There’s NO food, it’s no good, I REALLY am that thick! 

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The author

Adam Adamson still is an awesome shag... Well he is. Honest. But whatever, he has always loved to write, even before he could write. Its been a passion of his since he realised that others would read his stuff and get a little emotional. That gripped him really. Was it good or was it crap? Anyhoo! Enjoy reading what i’ve scribbled and who knows… one day it might make sense.

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