Tuesday, 6 February 2018


You're busy
He's busy
She's busy
They're busy.

Looks like I'm going to be busy too.
Not how you would like, but then what does it matter,
You are all busy.

If you weren't busy we could talk,
Do word puzzles,
Snuggle up on the sofa in the lounge,
And chill out with others.

But my mental state does not permit  other in,
Certainly not a group,
And certainly not from my side of the fence.

I need someone from the busy side.
By day they may be busy but still there is time to be spared, shared.
By night there's not enough to go around.

Not enough bodies to spare for the evening crisis,
Of which there are many.
The 10 o'clock bewitching hour appears to have changed.

For 8.30pm the haunting anxiety begins,
following me around like a shaddow of poor mental health.
Talking means sharing some of those demons,

Yet tonight they trapped,
Although not for long.
Released in my own desperate manner.

I promise I tried to get help,
Asking anyone and everyone who passed me at the office door,
But to no avail.

I can't help but take the 'busy' personally.
Yesterday another patient was given the assistance that I felt my desperation required.

It in itself is a problem that need to be addressed.
The 'busy'.
The night time response is almost certainly guarantee to be that;

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