People only walk into my life so few and far between.
I let them in, sometimes I let them stay.
Scratched into my heart like an old petrol tank.
When it runs dry, they leave and take it all with them.
Even the rust and chipped paint...
Its futile, always, to chase.
Left Behind.

-

At some point in the night, don't know when, maybe before I crashed. I wrote this. I don't remember doing it this morning , subconcious thing? I don't know.

Thought i'd kind of capture the feeling - which was rather rough and felt bad.

To me, I talk about my body and mind like an old motorbike or classic car - always have, only way to explain how i'm feeling, what i'm going through mentally and physically. Yknow? ~

I can see Thrasher just letting things take over, hunched over his petrol tank - heart and mind causing him to just fall apart at the side of a desolate road.

I've done it, where things get too much and I park up for a shout, or cry, or just lay on the bike, sometimes beside so I can hear the engine tick - til it stalls or just...ends.

Based on one of the bikes still in my life, a Purple Triumph Bonneville. But bulked out to look like a Rocket III.

The handcuffs represent being free, but still missing something...wanting that good or bad thing back...

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Thank you for letting me vent out how I feel, my mental health improved a smidge then ended up being triggered by something so trivial...

I want to thank my commissioners for letting me fight my demons and take some time to understand.

I will also be starting my new medications and old ones alongside the older prescription - just to see if it balances my head out, the antipsychotics i'm starting will sedate me so i'm balancing a lot.

So if I post weird shit, not make sense or you feel I need advice, please send a note. I'll most likely be there, just might need a kind word to get me through.

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Thrasher (C)

Art (C)