The contents of my backpack.


Sanity and insanity,

A bag full of psychosis.

I carry on my back.

It is a heavy load.

An appointment book in case I forget.

A stick of memories to make the memories stick.

Pills to pop to stop the pain.

Pills to stop the popping pain of the pills


Amongst the bits of paper, files and pens,

Lay little bits of me.

The chaos that is mine.

Forgotten coupons, out of date,

Save 5p on a box of chocs.

Flyers for exhibitions,

offers of nights out,

 In Places to
lose all inhibitions after a pint or two.

Scraps of phone numbers,

email addresses,

Facebook descriptions of people I don’t know or recall.


One day,

When the zips are straining to contain my ism’s and

I’ll sort it all out,

Before it explodes

And the detritus of my life ,

Is laid open for all to see. 

The End

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