The Old Piano

Photo by Jeff Hendricks on Unsplash
An Old Piano

I found it in the street.
Seems no one had time for music anymore.

There was a cat
sleeping under the keys.

I pushed it home,
put it in the hall.
The keys were worn,
the wood faded.

But when I pressed the keys,
it poured out light:
into the room,
into my eyes,
into my mind.

I saw the ghosts
of Saturday night.
singing,
dancing,
pouring heart
and
soul
through the keys.

And Sunday morning,
comedown,
slow and sad.

Life’s lived,
still echoing.

I sat at the piano.
Time for a new song.
Time for our song.

Let the notes dance again.





(c) Paul Andrew Sneddon

Light Me Home

Photo by Sander Dewerte on Unsplash
The stars are out tonight.
A cold February night.
The streetlights flicker, and I can see my breath escape my lungs into the cold night air.

Light me home. Light me home.

The silence, broken by the occasional taxi racing up the street,
or a shout from a street over.

Don’t you know people are trying to sleep?

I feel an old soul song story stir,
my feet lifting from the pavement,
lights shining everywhere.

I hear Mavis Staples.
I hear Steven Tyler.
I hear Al Green.

The Rolling Stones’ backing singers
from Shine a Light:

King.
Greene.
Fields.
Kirkland.

Raising their voices,
an earthy acoustic guitar playing,
a voice rising up from inside me:

Rise up.
Rise up.

Bassline hits.
Drums sound like truth.

Keys to the universe.

I close my eyes,
and I’m flying.

(c) Paul Andrew Sneddon

The Climb

Photo by John Silliman on Unsplash

⚠️ Trigger Warning: This is a story of survival, but it includes themes of depression, suicidal thoughts, self-harm, and emotional distress. Please read with care. If these topics affect you deeply, know that you are not alone.

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline (U.S.)
Contact: Call or text 988
Website: 988lifeline.org
Details: Available 24/7 for free, confidential support for mental health crises, substance use issues, or emotional distress. Offers chat services and support in Spanish (press 2 when calling or text AYUDA to 988).

Crisis Text Line (U.S., Canada, UK)
Contact:
U.S. & Canada: Text HOME to 741741
UK: Text SHOUT to 85258
Website: crisistextline.org (U.S.), shout85258.org.uk (UK)
Details: Provides 24/7 free, confidential text-based support. The U.S. website covers Canada; the UK service is operated by Shout. Note different numbers for UK vs. U.S./Canada.

Samaritans (UK & Ireland)
Contact: Call 116 123 (free, 24/7)
Website: samaritans.org
Details: Offers 24/7 emotional support for anyone in distress. Also provides email support ([jo@samaritans.org]) and a Welsh Language Line (0808 164 0123, 7 p.m.–11 p.m. daily).

Lifeline (Australia)
Contact: Call 13 11 14
Website: lifeline.org.au
Details: 24/7 crisis support and suicide prevention services. Text and online chat available (check website for hours).

Crisis Services Canada
Contact: Call 1-833-456-4566 (24/7) or text 45645 (4 p.m.–midnight ET)
Website: 988.ca
Details: Nationwide 24/7 support via phone; texting available evenings. The previous website (crisisservicescanada.ca) is outdated; 988.ca is the current hub for Canada’s suicide prevention services. Also, call or text 9-8-8 for immediate crisis support.

Suicide Crisis Helpline (India)
Contact: Call iCall: +91 9152987821
Website: icallhelpline.org
Details: Operated by TISS, provides mental health support and crisis intervention. Available Monday–Saturday, 10 a.m.–8 p.m. IST.

Mental Health Helpline (New Zealand)
Contact: Call or text 1737 (24/7)
Website: 1737.org.nz
Details: Free, confidential 24/7 support from trained counsellors for mental health and wellbeing concerns

I feel the sweat rolling down my back as I heave the shovel up and back down into the cold, dark earth. I run my hands through my hair and let out a breath as I pick the earth up and add it to the pile.

There is a cold silence around me. The trees are bare, empty. The woods robbed of their life by winter’s cold hand. I can hear the river run on.

I’m six feet down in the earth.
Past where the road ends.
Down past the old ruins of farms.

I didn’t think I’d end up here.

I left the house this morning before daylight broke. I’ve been driving ever since.

Everywhere.
Nowhere.
All at once.

I look around me. The shape, the edges of the grave are just right.

There you go. I can do something right.

I kneel down. Tears fall heavy. I can’t stop it.
I take out the gun.
Cold. Real.

My hand shakes a little.
I put it to my head.
I breathe.
Slow.
I close my eyes.
A moment.

I pull the trigger.

The river keeps running.
The moon peaks through the clouds.

I close my eyes and breathe in hard.
I look down at this muddy earth.
I put the gun to my head and pull the trigger.

Nothing.

Fuuuuck.

I hold the gun above me, pointing at the sky, and fire.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.

The night explodes in fire and noise as the bullets race into the night.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I throw the gun down into the mud.
As I look up, the clouds are clearing.
I see stars shining.
I howl out into the darkness.

I fall back to my knees and I’m crawling at the bottom of the grave.
Where’s the gun, where the gun, where is the gun,  I need that.

I can’t find it.

I’m lying flat on the bottom of the grave.
Mud sticking to my clothes.

I am of the earth, but not yet the earth.

I turn and I’m looking out from the bottom of the grave.
I hear the river.
I see the endless darkness.
And the stars shining.

My muscles ache. My head aches.
I try to lift my arms, but my energy has left me.
Has life left me?

I lay there.
I don’t know for how long.

I hear the voices of friends, vanished and gone.
I see my son’s face , holding him in my arms on the day he was born.
I hear my girlfriend call me,  somewhere out in the darkness.

Empty pages blow down the street.
Lights are going out.

All but one.

The rain starts falling.
So I drown.

I close my eyes as I feel the rain fall on me, my clothes sticking to me with the cold mud.

No.

I try to raise my head, but my body is heavier than heaven.
I try to move my arms, my legs — but they sink into the mud.

No.
I
I

I push. I kick.
I feel arms reaching from the ground, pulling me back, pulling me in.

I struggle.
My arms like dead weight.

As I struggle to my knees, I feel something metallic and mean rising through my stomach,
and I’m sick into the earth.
Into the grave.

Again.
And again.

Until there is nothing left.

I slouch down to the bottom of the grave, breathing in the air.
The rancid smell of sick assaults me.

I close my eyes and push myself to my feet, for just a moment , before I tumble down again.

The air escapes my body as I crawl to the side.
I’m pulling myself up from the side of the grave.
The mud sticks to me.

I slip.
I slide.
I fall.

But ,

I rise.

Again.
Again.

The rain is falling.
The mud sticks to me.
My arms, my legs empty of energy.

I must.
I have to.
Rise.
Rise.

I feel around the ground at the top, and I grab some roots.
I heave,
Slowly.

I pull myself from the grave…

Until I’m lying on the ground ,
Covered in mud and sick and rain,
Breathing hard as my lungs burn,
My body aches,
Tears falling.

But ,

I am alive.





National Suicide Prevention Lifeline (U.S.)
Contact: Call or text 988
Website: 988lifeline.org
Details: Available 24/7 for free, confidential support for mental health crises, substance use issues, or emotional distress. Offers chat services and support in Spanish (press 2 when calling or text AYUDA to 988).

Crisis Text Line (U.S., Canada, UK)
Contact:
U.S. & Canada: Text HOME to 741741
UK: Text SHOUT to 85258
Website: crisistextline.org (U.S.), shout85258.org.uk (UK)
Details: Provides 24/7 free, confidential text-based support. The U.S. website covers Canada; the UK service is operated by Shout. Note different numbers for UK vs. U.S./Canada.

Samaritans (UK & Ireland)
Contact: Call 116 123 (free, 24/7)
Website: samaritans.org
Details: Offers 24/7 emotional support for anyone in distress. Also provides email support ([jo@samaritans.org]) and a Welsh Language Line (0808 164 0123, 7 p.m.–11 p.m. daily).

Lifeline (Australia)
Contact: Call 13 11 14
Website: lifeline.org.au
Details: 24/7 crisis support and suicide prevention services. Text and online chat available (check website for hours).

Crisis Services Canada
Contact: Call 1-833-456-4566 (24/7) or text 45645 (4 p.m.–midnight ET)
Website: 988.ca
Details: Nationwide 24/7 support via phone; texting available evenings. The previous website (crisisservicescanada.ca) is outdated; 988.ca is the current hub for Canada’s suicide prevention services. Also, call or text 9-8-8 for immediate crisis support.

Suicide Crisis Helpline (India)
Contact: Call iCall: +91 9152987821
Website: icallhelpline.org
Details: Operated by TISS, provides mental health support and crisis intervention. Available Monday–Saturday, 10 a.m.–8 p.m. IST.

Mental Health Helpline (New Zealand)
Contact: Call or text 1737 (24/7)
Website: 1737.org.nz
Details: Free, confidential 24/7 support from trained counsellors for mental health and wellbeing concerns

Let It All Be

Picture by Paul Andrew Sneddon
I see an advert at the bus stop.

The open road of the USA,
highway stretching through Monument Valley.

Nah, I’d rather be here.

On the bus,
headphones alive,
listening to something real —

like Traquair and the Tranquilizers,
or Steve Adams singing,
“Have you washed your hands?”

Heading to Irvine beach
in the peelywally Scottish sun.

The kind of day
you need sunscreen and a hoody,
just in case.

The old town is alive with
sun seekers,
joggers,
families
and old ones.

Down those old roads,
along the harbour.

Smiles at the Hac.
I get the feeling
that might be my kind of place.

Past the ghost of The Big Idea,
drawbridge up.

I’m going to walk from Irvine to Barassie
along the beach.

The water slowly rippling in,
the sound of seagulls,
and the further along you get,
the people fade away,

and it almost feels like you are alone.

Arran in the distance,
keeping a watchful eye.

Jumping over the streams and sandbanks,
the occasional dog sprinting past,
chasing his ball.

I run my hands through the water.
Take a breath.

I turn off the music.
Take a seat in the sand.

Just sit back,
and let it all be.

Life is life.

(c) Paul Andrew Sneddon

A Different Kind Of Burn

Photo by Pathum Danthanarayana on Unsplash

Sometimes, I wished I smoked,
just for something to do
in dramatic pauses.

Vaping isn’t for that,
too cloudy,
wrecks the mood,
and takes ages to clear.

Unlike a sexy breath drifting through the ether.

And there’s only so many options.

Maybe a coffee stir.
Maybe telling the smart speaker to be quiet,
like it interrupted something important.

or…
or…
Or deleting the paragraph
and starting again.

Smoking is an old trick,
comes with a one-way ticket.

but maybe
folk just look out the window,
or play with their phones.







scrolling,







scrolling,








scrolling…









a different kind of burn.