A bitter taste lingers in my mouth,

The taste of vile repulsion,

Years of shame, self-hatred,

Built on acts so irresponsible,

So impulsive, reckless,

No regard for any person

though each one is irrespective

in the throes of manic self-absorption.

It is there, like Midas’ gold,

Glinting in seduction,

Reaching out to grasp

my materialistically mesmerised

collapse of teetering sanity.

My only limitation being

The ability to limit

my recklessness,

To abandon the wisdom

 of abstention.

The creditors’ letters sit in a pile,

Like teachers waiting to scold

And perhaps to chastise,

with a whack of the punitive cane.

Every word burns a scar

Into my defeated, guilty self,

Etched upon my self esteem

Like a deep, raw, acrid wound.

And yet again,

My soul mourns its own stupidity.

© Sarah Louise Drury 2019

We huddle,

wingless moths,

Around the single light source,

Plunged into a world

Of yesteryear,

Where looming shadows

Cast by candles,

Form an atmosphere,

Suspense and mystery,

The faces of the people

Draped in various robes

Of bygone days

are modelled by the light

Into wax figures


Technologically deprived,

Our bodies twitch,

Our minds

Devoid of screens

And stimuli,


Forced adjustments

Thrust upon our

Tech addiction,


Munching on cold turkey,

Choking on the bitter taste

Of death.

© Sarah Louise Drury 2019

An angel came to me last night,
Crept silently
Through skies so black
The moon and stars were lost
Amidst a sea of darkest ebony.

A touch upon my cheek,
A gentle warm caress,
So soft, a million feathers
Brushing, sweeping, floating,
Sweetest wings of gentleness.

My heart, a joyful vessel,
Touched, such tender passion,
Thousand glorious sunbeams
Radiant, jubilant heart,
Such sweetness,
Breathes the love of heaven.

Old man
Faded denim eyes,
Single-glazed windows
To a perpetual peepshow
Of intracomplex interaction;
Glaring china-glass marbles
Gazing, yet not seeing.

Gaping, slackened fish-mouth,
Drip, drop, dripping;
Rivulets of spittle lollop
Onto brackened moor-chin.
Flaccid tongue a-flailing,
Solely monotonous wails
And desperate moans.

Fag-end embers nestled
Charcoaled stumps of fingers,
Hurled off someplace in vicinity
Of the fag-ash graveyard.

Old man, are you here someplace,
Or will you stay forever
As an ex-pat in this land of sanity?

Written during a lengthy hospital admission with mania…

Drug Trolley

Hail! O righteous vessel,
Bearer of great gifts to
Those with faith in
This Messiah of psychiatry.

Wondrous drugs
Of plentious magnitude,
Neurological, psychological
Scrumptious liquorice allsorts.

Plastering, sanding, glossing
Over crumbling foundations,
Psychological invalidity,
Circuitry overload.

Come now,
swallow those meds,
They’ll send away the voices,
Ease away the pain.

You know you have to cooperate
For we have needles
Longer than your arm,
Must have complete submission.

Glazed and dazed,
The damaged and cracked,
Assert the tablet hierarchy,
‘Only two tonight dear’
‘I take fifty a day you know’.

The climax,
Blessed consumption of the
sacred pills and holy water
Modern deistic ceremony
After the manner of Sigmund Freud.

As the hoardes disperse to
Separate dimensions of space,
Time and delusion;
Broken, shattered fragments
Of a once-whole mirror,

They praise their holy trinity,
In the name of the
Trolley, drug and Holy Nurse.


My sweet most precious treasure
Purest heart of innocence,
A million dragons, jaws of fiery rage
All cowered rapt in mercy
Scorched and charred, no match
So powerful is the love I hold
For you, My son.

My pure, dear, tender man child,
Sweetest lips of sugared gossamer,
A thousand witches, ranting wildly, wicked,
Hellfire burning, chants a screeching,
Shrivelled, spellbound, cast beyond,
No match for full heart
Of a mothers love, my child.

My darling, dear heart youth,
Precious eyes of tourmaline,
A hundred monsters, ravenous and jawing
Clawing, flesh-hunt crawling,
Banished into kingdom come
By the fearsome hunger of
A mother’s love, my son.

My cherished, loving one,
Shimmering halo of iridescence,
A trillion kisses, a billion wishes
Of sweetness and sugar and candyfloss fluffiness,
Angels on cupcakes in clouds of marshmallow,
Here lies the story, the kingdom, the power,
A mothers love, my son.

I was just that child,
That human thing so fragile,
Bud which shakes in fear
Of blooming into splendour,
Fearful of my light.

I was just that child,
All bottled up and strangled,
Optimism snuffed out like
Choked laughter, kill
That happy, happy joy.

I was just that child,
In corners cowering,
The hollowness of all my tears
Cascading into pools of
Just invisible, all nowhere.

I was just that child,
My dreams and fantasies
Paraded in a stream of
Vicious parody, stupidity,
Cheap dreams, ten a dime.

I was just that child,
That ray of hope within,
Refused to let the demons down me,
Crush me, rising from the ashes
Shining Phoenix child.

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