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I'm Going Crazy Like Jack Torrance

The creative work further down is based on personal experience. Sometimes, I ask myself, 
Am I going Crazy Like Jack Torrance?

I have a new poem up at Linden Avenue. You can read it here in the December 2013 issue. (Link broken).

And five poems at a Romanian site called Egophobia. The usual protocol is to submit up to five, yet they decided to put all of them up. The first one is very short. The second, something I wrote to target the traditional academia based poetry journals to see if I could play their silly dull game, and the other three more my usual style. 

Here's something I wrote earlier in the year when I swore I saw something move across the floor. 

One step from voices

When ants are streaming up my leg
And the religious obsessives are
Pounding the door
The tension knots my neck
And I haven’t eaten for some time
I may be drinking water
But I still have a headache
I’m popping codeine
Like sherbet wiz fizz
Which makes home seem a little more homely
Except for the planes
Whose shadows
Shift me into darkness.

I see something dash across the floor
And sense eyes through the window
Yet after a search
Discover nothing
I am forced to contemplate the onslaught of craziness
Starting languidly
Like a blood transfusion
Necessary, they say
Swapping your veins
With the liquid content of another
A hungry night crawler
Eager to sell you a lie
If it means a swift conversion.

So I head for the fridge
Eager for alcohol
Seeking an excuse
To explain it all away
(Bury it for another day)
Pissed, drunk, hung-over
It’s temporary
Yet valid
If anything, it buys me a little time
To avoid contemplating
The lack of a solution.


  1. heavy stuff. When you drink too much you only catch glimpses of life.

  2. Great poem. The festive season is over-rated and if you're already feeling low, it adds insult to injury. I could "feel" the energy of the person, skin crawling, seeking foggy relief. Well done at capturing a moment that I would imagine most of us go through at one time or another.

  3. It's dark, free-flowing, intense. I like it. Seems the codeine and alcohol work in your - er, the poet's favor.

    Take care, my friend. Have a happy holiday season.


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