Self deprecating martyr

Mahatma Gandhi once said:
“A ‘No’ uttered from the deepest conviction is better than a ‘Yes’ merely uttered to please”
This was a long time before he died
if apologies and self-deception wouldn’t stop me from dying too
I would at least try to become a martyr for whatever cause I believe in
I’m just far too fearful of what comes after that
and had I the self-restraint to put my consumption on hold
to starve myself all for a better place
I would make the attempt to weather the hunger to prove to myself
that I’m strong, that I’m pure – But I’m not, not now
Truth is I am and always have been burdened by complacency
turning a blind eye around blind corners, confronted by
up-turned noses and volume to drown out the pleas for assistance
facing resistance with malleability and the right words at the right time
because I don’t like confrontation – my convictions are a victim
of striving for the end goal that I will change in order to get there

All is flair in Tolstoy and Exhibition

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)

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.