The Man the Mess Made

The Man The Mess Made Single Art - Chris Rewired

I come from nowt fancy, no silver spoon, no soft start, just bills on the side, cheap tea, and people with tired hearts. Working family blood, where love showed up rough, where…

When the Jobs Ran Out

When The Jobs Ran Out Single Art - Chris Rewired

Four weeks since we said goodbye, and still I haven’t learnt to cry. The forms are done, the calls have stopped, your house is cleared, the keys are dropped. I’m sat here…

For Ben, My Brother. My Mate

For Ben Born the year of ’83, a twin to your Becky, A winter baby with a laugh so loud and cheeky. We called you Negbutt for the grey clouds you’d see,…

Where Nobody Walks Alone

Where Nobody Walks Alone Single Art - Chris Rewired

Some charities start with meetings, with clipboards, plans and tea. This one started where hearts broke, where no heart should ever be. It started with Jamie missing, with questions left behind, with…

For Big JG, My Mum

For Big JG, My Mum Single Art - Chris Rewired

A foundation can crack from weight it could not bear, But you were Hessle Road rock, with a no bullshit stare. Kestrel in your courage, Three Hammers in your name, Big JG…

The Heart They Said Was Clear

We found out when it tried to kill my brother, a Marine, fit as fuck, built to last. One minute strong, next fighting his own heart, family genetics moving fast. Then my…

When Survival Finally Stopped

A week ago I stood in a room and read your life out loud. My brother. My mate. My own blood in a coffin while I tried not to break in front…

The Women I Couldn’t Love Properly

I was seventeen when the kids mum came in, too young for the life already beginning. Within months there was a baby on the way, and I knew right then I weren’t…

Built From Hard Stuff

I wasn’t built from easy days, I’ll admit, life took one look at me and said, yeah, he can have all of it. Left school with bugger all, no grades, no grand…

The Cost of Suicide

The Cost Of Suicide Single Art - Chris Rewired

I read the reports with my stomach in knots, all cold little words in official slots. Pages and dates, typed neat in black, like that somehow stops Ben from coming back. Then…