FOR TEN YEARS AND TWO SUICIDAL ATTEMPTS I DIDN'T REALISE THAT I HAD APHANTASIA NO MENTAL HEALTH GROUP TOLD AND I HAD 4 OR FIVE SESSIONS. 

This is a collection of prose and poems, most of the prose pieces were written before I took my stroke and lost all my memory. This is my fragmentation that reflects how I live today, without order.

 

MOMENT GLUE

 

I woke at five this morning 

and couldn’t get back to sleep

but nothing came to mind, you 

see I have no moment glue. 

I live in a twenty-four moment, 

it’s like having amnesia.  

My family doesn’t understand, 

even I don’t under-stand. 

It’s a form of dementia, my short-term 

memory flits back and forth and you can’t 

put your finger on it, it’s like 

living life without action or reaction.

 

I picked up the remote to kill time 

and watch T.V.  I flicked the red button 

on but nothing happened.

At first, I thought the batteries need to be 

changed then I remembered I dropped it 

and ran over it in the wheelchair, yes-

turday how do I remember this and not 

my childhood, my life is so trivial its

scary.  I’m like a child without progress 

in an adult body.  

It must be so confusing for friends and family 

but a few good friends and one son and niece 

have stuck by me, I’d be lost without them. 

Any wonder I get frustrated and aggressive 

it must be like my grandson’s frustration 

against his autism, he’s lucky he has 

my son to take the edge away.  

My long-term memory is shot to pieces, 

imploded, it’s in there somewhere.  So

they say. I don’t think I’ll ever get it back

 now it’s been ten years since I took my stroke.  

I know I repeat myself but I’m trying to get 

my head around this memory loss.  I thought 

some emotion or memory would have come 

back by now, it has got worse I’m getting 

weaker by the day, it’s like watching yourself 

die. 

I watched hunger the film by Steve Mc Queen 

the monologue between Sands and the priest 

was powerful and brought me to tears.

I can relate in part to Bobby Sand's 

despair, it was as if he projected him-

self beyond the republican movement.  

Powerful and a very brave man, I feel his 

despair over those days and I haven’t got 

the brits breathing down my neck oppressing 

me I am a brit oppressed breathing 

down my own neck.

Thank fuck for words even bad ones, 

words have pulled me back 

from the brink and saved my life. 

When I picked up the remote I dropped 

my morning tablets and could not 

reach them. 

One of the tablets calms me down slows 

my heart rate and stops me from being 

aggressive oh fuck! The power of words, 

they are as strong as that tablet or any 

medication, maybe it is all in the head 

but only words can get it out?