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Thoughtful Sleep
(Indisponível)

The inquest



Excerpts from the diary of Richard McClenan (1971-1989)



April 6 (Thursday)



Mother,

Do you think of me as your son

Or am I just a complication

I need you now, I need you now

A woman of the eighties

You never have time for anyone

I know your shadow, not your face

It breaks the light in my lonely room

As I lie awake in thoughtful sleep

I pray the Lord my soul to keep



Father,

Remember me I am your son

Or am I just a distraction

I need you now, I need you now

You live in a material world

People aren't people, they're what they own

With your keyboard fingers and green screen brain

Car phones, hotels, suitcases and planes

Please squeeze me in, I do exist

When time is money what price is love



April 9 (Sunday)



Even when I was young you didn't notice me

I was raised on helpers, TV and pity

When I cried for help you threw me money

All I wanted was a pound of your time

I feel

Pity for you and your mentality

Hate for you and what you've done to me

Resentment for all your selfishness

Content, content only within my emptiness



Here we see Richard's true mixture of emotions

Bitterness, rejection, contempt even hate

All of which began to plague him more and more in the following days



April 14 (Friday)



I would try to explain

But you would never listen

I would try to break through

That's the time you would shut me out

I'd just bottle up all my emotions

These feelings bite like a knot inside

This pain I carry in solitude

Chained to me in loneliness

Depression has me, he is my king

He shows the path that I must take

A perversion of justive of the saddest kind

To enter my dreams and I shall not wake



April 15 (Saturday)



As I sit by fading light

And write to you this final note

To exercise my divine right

A lump begins to swell my throat

You cannot see this tear-stained face

You cannot hear these tormented cries

If you don't understand my actions

Then you must read between the lines

And now I throw back in your face

The only gift for which you didn't pay

The gift of breath, of life, of being

Something I no longer see a purpose in



As I embrace eternal sleep

I pray the Lord my soul to keep










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