Tony you fucking scare me
What am I supposed to say
You're my bestest Marmite mate
And I don't know if you're alive today.
I don't care if you're crazy
No matter how mental mad
For underneath all your posturing
I know you're more good than bad.
I just love your company
Almost as much as I love your dog Kail
Perhaps they turned you too crazy
By diagnosing you in jail.
I'm scared you've topped yourself
And now you're at rest
I really hope you haven't
But you will know what's best.
We've so much to do
If only we had money
Got so many grounds to visit
Even though life's not sweetness and honey
.........................................................................
(A good mate of mine has mental health problems. When I wrote this I genuinely though he had topped himself. I was on my way down to where he lives in Kent expecting to have to identify a body. This poem is 'unfinished'...I got a phone call while at Dartford, waiting to change trains, telling me that he was 'ok', being seen to by police and his local crisis mental health team. In effect this is an 'unfinished' poem...)
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