October 27, 2008 | Leave a comment Hearing voices, of my friends who hate my mum, whispering threats, pleas to get a gun, sounds of spectres of hate and rage and distrust, I fight a constant battle my Doctor says I must. They say I must be clever, the best brains have friends who advise, and on and on do they ever but the dullest sickest sayings come breezing from their mouths which, unseen but constant prickings are urging me again to ignore the real reality and seek to ease the pain. To some they come with music and others whilst mixing paint and some get friends from foreign governments who urge loss of self-restraint whilst sending written messages through newspapers in code push my mind across the precipice, from the edges of the road. Share on Facebook