Sandman Trip

What destination will I take tonight

when sandman takes me on his sleep flight.

A subconscious choice made for me

not in control of my dreams destiny.

Will I see friends of past times gone

a time when we were more as one.

Will there be horrors on the trip

rooms locked

sinking ship

lead feet


falling pit.

Sandman Ill leave you to surprise

the trip is yours

seen through only my eyes.



Copyright © 2017 Charlie Hasler.

Ripples Repeating

Trump at helm

who would of thought

the days are back

of when hate was taught.


Religion hijacked

the irony is there

the source of all knowledge

now the route of all despair.


Wars being waged

in some hopeless engage

and all to be accomplished

another blood socked page.


The history warnings

were there  all along

we just chose to hit repeat

and replay the same sad song.



Copyright © 2017 Charlie Hasler.


Troubled Mind

How I fear my troubled mind, you never do treat me kind.

How I fear my troubled mind.


Moonlight creeping, through pane of glass, how I pray my fear won’t last.

How I fear my troubled mind.


Silent taunting, mocking laughter, my troubles lasting ever after.

How I fear my troubled mind.


Black cloud, as black as oceans deep, rocks of sharps and serpents sleep.

How I fear my troubled mind.


Shadow across brow of hill, dampening light of darken sight.

How I fear my troubled mind.


Claps of thunder, roll of dice, remove remove my winter ice.

How I fear my troubled mind.


How it feels all so unkind

Be still, be calm my troubled mind

learn to love and treat me kind

my worried






Copyright © 2017 Charlie Hasler.

Fears Web

What is this spiders web, running and weaving through my head

Diamond and square, circle and tear

Trapped am I upon the thread

Struggling to get free from my inner mind web

Dangle and jangle, cocooned a frown

A thread across my mortal crown

What is that in the distance

Closing in to consume my inner resistance

Eyes gleaming, like a patch of  starlight

Nothing can contain my inner worst fright

I try to get loose, cut away free

No amount of screaming is going to save me

Fast approach, nearer still

To afraid to fight, to weak to break free

I shall allow this fear to break and consume me

Now on top, pinning me down

The weight too much, I feel the drown

And so the feast commences

Breaking through my fragile mind fences

Fear is done

It scurries away

Leaving me here dangling







Copyright © 2017 Charlie Hasler.

Bleeding Hands

Hands of stone, cracked and weeping, the only peace I get is when I am sleeping.

 Cold and hard, ash grey, the torture pecks and stings all day.

What have I touched, I must remember, to cleanse and clean or face the temper.

Crucifix hands lay in wait, ready for the nail to stab and penetrate.

With a smash of the hammer, and slash of the whip, I see my hands open, tear and rip.

And on the crucifix I lay, unable to move, frozen with fear against the wood, Id do it myself, id end it all if I could. To hell being attached to this pain, to this wood.

Take a knife, cut them off, Ill do it myself or hang aloft.

Put the gun to my head, and make my eyes see only red, Its not worth it, id be better off dead.

Ill offer my hands on the block, or smash my head against that idyll rock.

All day long from morning till night, my hands are the source of my wretched plight.

A constant wasp sting, dirty needle, razor blade or sand paper evil.

Paper cuts all day long, leave me waiting for that silent nights song.

Blocks of ice, that follow me round, for all my days, locked and bound.



Copyright © 2017 Charlie Hasler.

Anxiety: A Burden Chime.

I am anxious all of the time and fear is my burden chime.

Hands are locked, eyes are tight, a constant need to fight or flight.

I am exhausted all of the time, always listening to the burden chime.

The constant chime never stops, no pleading or begging pauses these chiming clocks.

The clock always ticks, ticks, ticks, never a pause to let me unload these heavy mind bricks.

A walk outside is done as a race, the burden chime sets the pace.

I am not in control of my inner feel, these devil chimes steer my internal wheel.

Chime, tick, chime, tick, please help me with this hellish mind brick.

Please stop the chime, its making me ill, anymore and ill sink further still.

I cant breath, the chime wont let me, please make it stop or at least reach out and get me.

Pass me a hammer, pass me a knife, cut this chime and help me reclaim my life.

I want my life back, chime no more, to hell with this anxiety matador.

I have no fight left, I have no flight in me, the burden chime is killing me swiftly.

On goes the burden chime even as I write this, toes curl, neck aches, please help me put on my mind brakes.

How can I go to work tomorrow, the burden chime allows me only sorrow.

Tired I am, counting the chime rhythm, dancing to its tune at any time given.

So as you read this now, look at your watch, gaze at your clock and be thankful you hold the key and command the lock.

You hear no chime, you are the clock and you command when it goes tick or tock.



Copyright © 2017 Charlie Hasler.

Mind Radio.

Turn down the volume, it makes me want to scream out loud, while standing among-st this silent crowd.

No volume button at my discretion, to sooth my thoughts to allow for a calmer expression.

My tortured look sliced across my face, like a man who once had a happier mind space.

Is this just me, can you hear it too, that painful laugh, that devils shrill, that teases me like a twilight winter daffodil.

Let me hear your music for a while, so I may lie quiet and bare a smile.

Quiet and peace is all I long for, not this pounding in my brain nor that hammering on my minds door.

Oh how I wish I could tune in like you, and whistle to the silence of my own free will.

I scramble for that invisible switch, to silence the cackle of this mind witch.

But you wouldn’t know, you have silence, try listening to these hell like sirens.

All clutter now, all clutter, help me stop the banging of this relentless mind shutter.

Where are you going, you haven’t heard, if you listen closely you can hear the devils herd.

I must stop thinking that you hear it too, you cant and thats why I cant hear you.

I look at your face but hear no words, I cant hear you see, I wish I could, then perhaps we could talk and solve this riddle of why my mind only hears a devils fiddle.


Copyright © 2017 Charlie Hasler.

OCD, Anxiety, Depression, and other reasons I am not an Astronaut.

My name is Charlie. I am 31 years old and I suffer with mental health problems, including but not limited to, anxiety, OCD and depression. These are the conditions I am aware of. I think I have been officially diagnosed with all of the above as I have seen certainly anxiety and OCD on work sick notes and I have been prescribed anti depressants by my GP . I haven’t actually had a Clinical Physiologist sit me down and say “you have anxiety, depression and OCD” or something to that affect but all discussions I have had with various professional parties have been based around those 3 subjects as the main focus points. Its highly likely I haven’t been officially diagnosed, in truth I don’t know. But that’s by the by, when your broken the label doesn’t matter. Also id like to point out I will refer to my problems in the past tense sometimes; this is because I have Dyslexia so my spelling/grammar may be off from time to time or it is a ritual/compulsion I have overcome (there are not many).

I suppose where it all came to a head as it were was In November of 2016 I had a nervous breakdown or what I think qualifies as a nervous breakdown.  Part of my OCD meant that I would have to use scalding hot water to wash my hands. Unless the water was at a temperature so hot that would cause me to wince with pain then I didn’t think it would clean my hands properly and somehow, germs or grease or whatever it was I thought required such intense sterilization, would then be transferred onto various other things like my phone and if it’s on my mobile phone that means after I have touched that it will be on my keys if I touch them and so on and so on. On a daily basis I would go through my day trying to map out my routes of things that I needed to clean, but I want to cover that in further detail another time. On this day in particular the hot water wasnt so hot and it tipped me over the edge, now at this point my OCD and anxiety was at its most acute. I was a pressure cooker waiting to blow, and I did. I went and sat in one of the meeting rooms or I may of asked my brother (we work together) for a quick word first, either way we ended up in a meeting room. He asked me was I ok and I just started crying, couldnt even get my words out. I was finished. I hadnt broken yet, that came in the following hours. Needles to say I was sent home. Which was awful because that wasnt part of my routine.

Once I got home, I remember feeling angry at myself and I thought I was going to tackle this head on so I ignored all my compulsions and tried to carry on. By ignoring my compulsions I mean in the sense I didnt clean my wallet and keys which I always did after work, and various other things like that. Sounds so minor now but for me then this was life and death stuff. I paced up and down saying “fuck this shit” over and over again. Bad idea, what had I done?? The horror of ignoring my compulsions hit me like a ton of bricks. That OCD, anxiety monster kicked seven shades of shit out of me. By the time my partner came home a few hours later she found me standing in the corner of the room, I couldn’t sit down I couldn’t stand still and my fists were clenched shut. She tried to sit me down but she couldn’t. I just wasn’t there. My brother rang and I spoke to him, that was enough to get me to at least lie down. I swear at that point a good gust of wind would of blown me over  I was exhausted. That was the lowest point. I was a ghost of my former self. I use that term because a couple of days later my mother saw me and said I looked haunted. Her words were “myself and your father have seen all sides to you, happy, angry, sad….never haunted” her saying that to me is something I will always remember. Haunted, what a terrible thing to look.