what would you say those daemons are and how does it feel to have them exposed now?

A lot of it is to do with love –

drinking and drugs and stuff like that – 

and my own capacity with self-destruction, 

particularly my own way of dealing with my past,

my frustrations, my future, etc.

My reactions to said frustrations haven’t been particularly healthy, shall we say. 

And laying that bare in poems is not the most comfortable thing. 

I think a lot of it has to do with I live quite a weird life:

when I go to work it's either solitary and putting commas in the right place,

or on stage somewhere in front of a bunch of people.

It’s sort of like how do you live that life 

and try to maintain a degree, a level of sanity, if not normality?

There was a study recently that said poets are three times more likely 

to suffer from anxiety, depression and addiction – 

is that because the art gives you that vessel to escape but also the reason for it?

I wondered about the direction of causality,
but yes;

I’ve never heard a good album

or read a good book

that says ‘Everything is fine'.

So, I continue,

but I also continue to change,

learning and leaving things (and people) behind;

picking up new things along the way just to see what works.

One day, I want to write a boring poem

about everything being...well, just fine.

I want one day where nothing happens.

When that happens, I will know

that I have hit a turning point.