The Writers Voice
The World's Favourite Literary Website

The Illness


Gavin Lake

ill never forget the last six months of your life brother
ill never forget the diagnosis when i vomited outside kates door
and that endless drive to the hospital
seeing your face with the people crowded around you like you were already dead
i couldnt stand it and ran to the toilet and beat my fists against the wall wailing
uncontrollably at the thought of losing you
i remember begging my mother on the phone to tell me what was wrong
but she couldnt bring herself to say it
it was leukaemia and his odds of surviving diminished as his body followed
until the end when he looked as if he were rotting
i cant imagine what that did to you dan i think about it everyday
lying there with tubes and machines all around him
unconscious in intensive care
his eyes turned deep in to his head bloodshot
his mouth blue and dry
when they turned off the machine my mother put her ear next to his heart
and listened to the final beats slowly dissipate to silence

The Fear

By my bed
sits a tin
it contains kingsize rizlas
bong meshes
bottle caps
roach material
a deck of cards
some weed
a bottle opener
and 100 valium
i keep these things close to my bed
for the comedowns, the whiskey, the mephedrone nights
the cocaine the pills the speed or whatever else
to slowly break myself from the inside out
its so simple the high the crash
but why?
im too scared to do anything else
every morning i like to take a big bong load
and lie there looking at the ceiling
wondering if theres anything i can do to
make this day a little more bearable
then the demons come out
every past mistake or every unwanted memory
consumes me which causes an unpleasent anxious feeling in my guts
i used to have a beer to calm it down but now i just pop a few valium
and fall right back to sleep
as the war rages on and the people are out working
i cant even be human


back in stoke
sits a man.
a man through violence
intimidation and
general bigotry
has lost everything.
people see him
and think they know him
and maybe even feel sorry
for him but he doesn't.
he remembers the way the
way he shook and beat his
children, the way he accosted
his wife for all her loyalty
and love.
he lost one son
and was not allowed to visit
the hospital because his
behaviour was so vile
and so selfish. he let
his own wife grow deeper
and deeper in debt with
twice daily visits to his
sick bed only to come home
to sink full of dishes. this
man once beat his other son
at 16 and gave him a scar
on his lip that he still
wears today. he screamed
and balled at all of them daily
and with time violence grew
worse and worse until one
day without warning he
came home to find the
house empty. and so is his life
now. all he has now is a grave
and a house (which he will one day
lose in this messy divorce that has
gone on for four years)
and if there is any human
part of him left the guilt of
knowing it was all his fault.
this is man who could have had
the earth but each and every time
chose himself. and i have no tears
for his endless nights and no sorrow
for his waking grief. i pity this man
for all he is and all he could have been

When Its Time To leave

she's got another job and im stuck waiting in the same pub getting more and more wasted as the hours pass,
basically the way it works is i disappear as she dances and masturbates for men for money,
its been this way for six months now and i am beginning to fall in love,
we need the money they need the kicks,
when its time to leave i always go to the same pub and write and write,
trying not to think of his jerking corpse bouncing up down as my love pleases him with her eyes,
her eyes those big sad eyes,
i hear the laughter behind me and feel it fall heavy on my soul,
the time drags for us both and the money means we wont go hungry or the drugs wont run out or the beer wont dry up
i sell my valium she sells her soul
we are the anglican dream

And For What?

the kindest guy i know lent his card to a whore and she took all his money,
i smashed up my own greenhouse and got pounced on by two policemen,
i spent all the money i had too see two friends only to sit in silence,
a friend of mine got slapped in the face because he gave the wrong kind of roach to the wrong kind of person,
i used to be able to paint all day but now i can even set up my easel,
my girlfriends mother would take great joy in humulating her in ways i will not repeat,
my father punched me in the face as hard as he could when i was just sixteen and still walks around smilling,
he slapped me in the ear so hard i had to fake being deaf just so he would hit me again,
he choked me,
he pinned me down and tried to piss on me,
another friend got stripped naked in front of his whole school,
a friend of my girlfriends got stabbed with a samurai sword seven times then ran over repeatedly
till her heart couldn't take anymore
and for what?

When You Find Me Cold

with cold liquor swimming in my veins
i put together poem after poem
making a memory for the ones i love
my brother long gone
my last night alone
the noose is set
soon tears will fall like rain
soon the flowers will surround my name

Dedicated to Daniel James Lake
A rare light in some darkened lives

Critique this work

Click on the book to leave a comment about this work

All Authors (hi-speed)    All Authors (dialup)    Children    Columnists    Contact    Drama    Fiction    Grammar    Guest Book    Home    Humour    Links    Narratives    Novels    Poems    Published Authors    Reviews    September 11    Short Stories    Teen Writings    Submission Guidelines

Be sure to have a look at our Discussion Forum today to see what's
happening on The World's Favourite Literary Website.