mental-health – Page 12 – Paul Andrew Sneddon

The Bridge

** Contains strong language and themes of mortality and violence. ** Section 1 It started here, on this bridge. A December day with the temperature falling. Away from the crowds, the shoppers, the revellers spilling out of the pub. The cold waters of the Kelvin running beneath me: timeless, endless. A police siren sounds asContinue reading “The Bridge”

Pawn Shop Guitar Man

I’m a pawn shop guitar man.They don’t let me in uptown.I don’t get around downtown much either. I’ve been waiting for the bus,but the buses don’t run. It’s okay.It could be worse. I’ve got this guitar. Paint’s a little worn. Six strings.Twenty frets. A universe. Lift it from the case.Start to play. Testifying beneath theContinue reading “Pawn Shop Guitar Man”

Cloud

Sometime last week,I fell under a cloud—Grey and cold,And I can’t shake it. Wherever I go, it follows me:From the couch to the door,And the bus stop into town—A cold and empty rain. At the comedy club,I couldn’t laugh;Got called a “miserable bastard,”Told them to fuck off. At the football,Couldn’t sing the songs—Left early;Didn’t evenContinue reading “Cloud”

The Old Chair

Lying awake in bed before my alarm.Thinking of the day. Got to get up.Got to get going.The floor cold beneath my feet.I sat down at the table.The surface cold to my touch. The old wooden chair — one of the most basic you can buy.Zero percent comfort. I had intended to buy a more comfortable chair — maybe oneContinue reading “The Old Chair”

Home

I’ve got a little Park20W amp.It sits under a tablein the bedroom. I’ve owned it for 30 years,and still some days,when the rain tumbles downand my feet can’t get on the ground,I unwrap the wire,I plug it in. I unspool the guitar leadand plug it into my guitar,full of soul. I turn the volume up,makeContinue reading “Home”