I broke my own eyesight with St. Patricks closed fist
in a bar fight with the boyfriend of my first Kiss Me I’m Irish
I might have layed on the accent a little
Talked with more than a little flair
But In love and war and drunk girls on Exhibition street
All’s fair, so I got beat fair and blue and white
You should have seen the other guys from this side of the bar(s)
Slam
Domino Heart
Another spoken word peice. A little rougher.
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She picked up the dominos and packed them neatly into their box.
Put it in it’s place on the shelf next to the tissues and the bandages,
turned to me and said “I’m done. I’ve cleaned up”
“And don’t you look a picture” I replied, smiled, turned and led her out
Seven months ago Jessica was a little girl
walking alone the highway across the world
held at gunpoint by a scoundrel with a winning smile
who always gave 110% when it came to football
and in his arms she felt safe. Safe enough
to take on the highway and walk for three days straight.
He told her it was ok, and it was so hot outside
you could see the ice in her breath when she exhaled
but so long as he had his arms around her
she could keep balance and her heart would never fall crooked.
He became her life support. Soon, after weeks without rest
she was hooked up to so many machines that she just stopped.
Stopped walking, stopped talking, stopped coming home
stopped looking ahead and the highway was now a road
that she was hitched along for the ride upon
No seatbelts, downhill, potholes.
Jessica got clumsy and walked into doors a lot
became good at covering up bruises to avoid tough questions
she’d paint on a smile to keep him happy,
he didn’t like her answer when he asked what the fuck she was crying for.
he didn’t like hurting her either, because he loved her so much
and she knew it was true because he’d say it every night
when he was raping her.
so she forgave him again without asking, he didn’t have to say it
she knew he was sorry because he loves her and he will change
climb down from the clouds, lower his hands
hold her close instead of hostage.
The sidelines are no place for love to watch from.
Five of my friends and I tried to change him ourselves.
After he got out, dusted himself off and reset his ribs
Jessica dissappeared with him.
It was four months before the next-of-kin heard
that she was critical from an overdose and holding out for us.
Red and white brought her back, a fragile shell
of the sister I once knew.
Blue and white took took him away, and a hammer
gave him six years to change.
Black and white fell in a line and covered the floor.
It was forever endlessly Re-love, family and confidence
before she finally picked up the pieces
and put them back where they belonged.
She turned to me and said “I’m done, I’ve cleaned up”
“And don’t you look a picture” I replied.
Estruaries
I wrote this specifically for a spoken word performance, not to be read. One day I’ll make a video. One day.
When I first discovered I could masturbate
It was a huge relief.
’cause a part of me realised that no matter how
fat or awkward or insecure I was
I could always love myself.
We’ve all got a story stuck in our throats
choked down by all the white meat around the wish bone
I was 18 before it ever really hit home
that I was full grown but still hadn’t learned to love the skin I own
as a kid I wouldn’t let it show
locked it away, put the key under my mattress
then I rolled with it
all the jokes about being a fat kid
I used to run every day, with my dad until he got sick
but thank god he stopped ’cause my weight nearly killed him
picked a fight with the mirror, told him he was a shell
didn’t even have the courage to take a chance or rebel
held a gun to my temple, then my hair got wet
had a full water pistol and another empty threat
So make a change motherfucker
or else you’ll stay the same
all your anxieties will pile up
and cloud your every thought like mud
they’ll rip your aspirations and destroy your dreams
and hopes for love, they’ll crush you like a tonne of..
fuck
’cause I just locked it away and it got stuck in my throat
Suffocating, I found and outlet, so I wrote
this is just a process by which I can face my inhibitions
sometimes I’m hide inside my shell but creeping out inch by inch
I’ve been punched, kicked, broken down, bruised and pushed away
from what I wrote down while building up the courage to say
that this is my life, my skin, my ego you’re denting
my stumbled words, emotions and my cliche ramblings
you want to trade words? Yeah, yours used to make me down
but now mine make me look past the mic into the crowd
I am above you now.
Yeah, It was a huge relief.
no matter how fat or awkward or insecure I am
I can always love myself.
I’m not quite there yet, but I’m trying
Now I keep the key in my breast pocket.
Highschool bullshit 