Lost – Alex Rogers

I need to tear myself apart and make a fresh start

We are very appreciative of Alex Rogers’ decision to share ‘Lost’ with us. Alex views poetry as a medium to potentially reckon with life’s difficulties, as well as being a ‘tool to bring light, relief, entertainment to all.’ Thank you Alex for your support.

Lost

A poem about escaping to find yourself by Alex Rogers. 


I used to say all I knew was fight, turns out I’m having a crash course in flight. 


I didn’t have time to pack much, just some tees, shorts, my passport, and what was left of my mind … or so I thought. 


Who would have known how far I would go  to cast the only life I have known, like a stone, into the unknown. 


And fuck knows how many steps I’ve done because the battery in my Fitbit’s gone, just like my own. But I push on. 


So I ran, took a flight, travelled by night, all out of fight. A one way ticket was all I could afford, fuck it, all aboard. 


So far I have travelled by plane and foot, not knowing if I was still sane or not. 


Two policemen on the plane, fucking idiots pretending they’re psychologists. They dragged me off, assessed me, said “you look sane”. I laughed, they let me past. 


But little did they know of my pain cos I hid that shit, buried it in stone like a geologist. So tired of this. 


It’s so well hidden, don’t know if I can even find it myself, hence this mission. 


And now I’m here by the sea, trying to find a piece of me, and start my recovery. I need to tear myself apart and make a fresh start. Don’t know how, don’t know what happens in the next part. 


But what’s the reason for all this anxiety, I don’t know, I’m overwhelmed by reality. 


I need to get to the bottom of my perplexion, find a new connection. 


With the woman who’s been there through thick and thin who thinks I’m drinking and partying, when really I’m just looking for the end of the string which leads my way back in. 


I’m lost, like the end of the sellotape. Going round and round causing me to frustrate. So close to giving up, all because I fucked it up. 


Couldn’t even switch my own lights out, tried that and where did it get me? Fucking A&E, alerting services, risking my family. 


I’ve spent so long working on my physical, but I still lack the skills to work on my cerebral. 


And that’s not the only skill that I’m lacking, where’s the caring, the warmth and the empathy I should be packing? 


So much drive, so much focus and ambition. But it’s all been pointed in the wrong direction. 


I realise now but is it too late? I’m trying to clear my plate, redirect my fate and claw my way back through all the hate. 


I’m lost, with a fragile mind state. 

Alex Rogers

Did you enjoy this poem? Why not visit Maggie’s website at: Maggie’s Centre Nottingham to find out more about their exceptional work and/or make a donation. Do you have a poem you would like to submit to Voices? Feel free to do so by email at: voicespoetry@outlook.com or via the ‘Contact’ page on this site.

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