Tainted

Carry the weight of the world on my shoulders
Carry the weight of the whole world on my shoulders,
Because I refuse to let any of it go
Find it hard to let things go

We were both so dedicated
To keep what we had from fading
Dedicated to the loving memory
But our love is tainted

Like a painting
Of sun and song we had created
Wouldn’t waste it,
Our illustration
But our love is tainted

Our hands are made for holding
Our hands are made for holding, not building
Hands too dirty to clean the canvas

But we were both so dedicated
To keep what we had from fading
Dedicated to the loving memory
Our love is tainted

Like a painting
Of sun and song we had created
Wouldn’t waste it,
Our illustration
But our love is tainted

But dedicated,
We were so dedicated
To keep the hearts from breaking
Keeping things in their places
Afraid of changes
So dedicated
But our love is tainted

The road we’re on is so unstable,
Our love is tainted
This road’s unstable,
Our love is tainted
Keep the hearts from breaking,
Never waste it, our creation,
Is tainted
Wish I could change it,
Our love is tainted

Debt

You can wish on it
But I don’t owe
I’m not something you can control
You can’t fill a honey park with black ink
Set fire to your ghost
Compromised the soul when you sent it to stalk me
You should’ve sent your soldiers to get to know me
You’ve mistaken my studies for uncertainties
You underestimated me
You should’ve trusted me
You should’ve listened to me
You can wish on it

No I don’t owe you a single thing
From the stained painting to your dreams of a wedding ring
Bet your life on the batch works,
In fists we do not trust 

I don’t owe you anything
Not the soft tissue of my eyes nor the dreams that purpose mine
Relish your rotting residue and ruin
What you find is only mine


I get that attention you crave,
You should sleep on it
I got the skills from the cave,
You should work on it
I’ve got the bounce back from the ricochet,
Fix your aim, (you should) fix your aim

I know you wish on it
But I don’t owe
I know it bothers you, I’m out of your control
You can’t pour pirhana etch into pears
I’ve set fire to your shadow
You compromised your soul when you sent it to stalk me
You should’ve sent your soldiers to get to know me
You’ve mistaken my studies for uncertainties
You underestimated me
You should’ve trusted me
You should’ve listened to me
You can wish on it

I get that attention you crave,
You should sleep on it
I got the skills from the cave,
You should work on it
I’ve got the bounce back from the ricochet,
Fix your aim.




 

 

 

The Sky Is Blue

The reason I am alive today is because the sky is blue.

Isn’t that one of the stupidest things you’ve ever read?

For as far as I can remember, as soon as I knew about dying and death, I wanted it. It evolved from wanting to run away – to get as far away from everything that surrounded me like water against a ship – to being so still in my place – breathing in my surroundings, looking at them with no longer a motive to move from them or run. I accepted everything that was happening and just let it tear me apart.

All of my teenage years are ruined by sadness, to put it broadly. Alone, and now quiet, the boy I used to be was sad and nothing more. Alone, he did not try to pick up his pieces. He did not seek help. He did not try to be okay. He did not stir his black waters.

As I progressed these years, I got older, tougher, and more brave. Bleeding wasn’t enough, and suddenly I was experimenting with other ways. Why? I don’t know why. I don’t know why I hated myself that much, and when I look back, I am reminded of countless reasons – but I will never know which one exactly sent me over the edge. But I got older. Specifically from 15-17, death was in my eyes.

I searched everywhere for life, but it must have been running from me. I lost grip on everything that tightened me to my place here.

People call suicide selfish because those who love you suffer it. What those people don’t realise is that you think of those people all the time. Suicide can come in the form of a quick jump or fall or descent, but that’s not how it works. You go through just how much it would impact your little sister, you think of the brave face your older one will have to put on, you think of your friends who will always wonder why and if they had something to do with it. You think of everyone, and it holds you rooted for a bit. That’s love. But love isn’t as strong as people think. Love breaks. And that’s exactly what depression does. You start realising your little sister will weep and be scarred, but will go on with her life. Your older sister is strong and combined with your little sister, they will pull each other through. Your friends will fall out of love and care, and their paranoia will cease, and you will become nothing but a name that is honoured every year until there is nobody left to remember the date.

There have been so many times when I have been an inch to death. And I always put myself there. But the sky is blue. And on sunny days, the clouds disperse and the strength of the blue is so beautiful. And sometimes the sky is lost to a mass of cloud, and all is wrapped in a grey that calms a headache, and light misty rain falls like a blessing to soothe the hot blood beneath the skin. I could never kill myself, because the sky was too beautiful, and I would miss it too much.

The Feed

Yeah my tracks are still fucking bitter
Epiphany being such a hard hitter
I had my tongue on the lips of that bullshitter
More over I slopped up the residue of the lies he left behind
Move over I gained the right to leave the questions unsigned

Oh I smoothed over every single edge and then wounded myself up from all the kicks and scratches, I, was far from selfish
And to think this brute had a fix on me like a chunk of drain hair that clogged up in my throat
To think he kept his foot down on me underwater so I couldn’t float
Like he was captain of the boat,
Guider of the road

Gave in and bitched out
Gave up the moon in my blackout,
I stuck around, yeah, I stuck around
I wiped his hands clean when he smeared up on my own fruit,
Collected his wishes and wore em like armbands in a pool of false truths
Held onto his hypocrisy and became too confused to reboot

Yeah my tracks are still fucking bitter
Epiphany being such a hard hitter
I had my tongue on the lips of that bullshitter
More over I slopped up the residue of the lies he left behind
Move over I gained the right to leave the questions unsigned

Oh I rounded up all his inner conflicts like rogue guns and it took me too long to realise I was the target range
And to think I had this boar on a throne like a clapped fool using a guillotine as a pillow
To think I played right into his arms
Like I was a pig on his farm,
Something to harm

Gave in and bitched out
Gave up the moon in my blackout,
I stuck around, yeah, I stuck around
I wiped his hands clean when he smeared up on my own fruit,
Collected his wishes and wore em like armbands in a pool of false truths
Held onto his hypocrisy and became too confused to reboot
He wrecked on
My dignity when he questioned my integrity
By reassuring his barbarity
It was my own reason burning out

Yeah my tracks are still fucking bitter
Empathy being such a hard hitter
I held my tongue on the grips of that bullshitter
More over I slopped up the residue of the lies he left behind
Move over I gained the right to leave the questions unsigned

 

Guns and Suits

Hood down, slouched, that’s how he walked
Great aim, accuracy, that’s how he shot
Guns and suits, his lifetime collection
Life consisting of riots and retaliation

 

He loved me half to death
He hated me the rest
But he could never walk away he swore, he confessed
I was a
Lifetime of mysterious complications
He wore a
Black tux, white cuffs, correlation

 

Guns and suits
Immaculate, and he’s sayin’
Guns and suits
Head bent, shoulders back and – and I’m hopin’
He’s gonna
Kiss me, baby hit me with the trepidation
Rough lips, hard kiss, he’s a constellation
Eyes tight, lips wide and – and I’m lovin’
His guns and suits, yeah
Guns and suits
Guns and suits, baby
Guns and suits

 

He walks around high, pistol in his back pocket
Got a python and a trooper in his tux socket
Police are watchin’ and he’s smilin’ and he’s thinkin’ fuck it
He wants a
Bullet show, homicidal knife party
I wanna
Jazz song, and a blood storm in the lobby

 

Guns and suits
Immaculate, and he’s sayin’
Guns and suits
Head bent, shoulders back and – and I’m hopin’
He’s gonna
Kiss me, baby hit me with the trepidation
Rough lips, hard kiss, he’s a constellation
Eyes tight, lips wide and – and I’m lovin’
His guns and suits, yeah
Guns and suits
Guns and suits, baby
Guns and suits

 

His short black hair, the smoke from his cigarette
The way he squints as he studies me in depth
Makes me feel protected with an arm around my shoulder
I like ’em older

 

Guns and suits
Immaculate, and he’s sayin’
Guns and suits
Head bent, shoulders back and – and I’m hopin’
He’s gonna
Kiss me, baby hit me with the trepidation
Rough lips, hard kiss, he’s a constellation
Eyes tight, lips wide and – and I’m lovin’
His guns and suits, yeah
Guns and suits
Guns and suits, baby
Guns and suits

 

Written in 2015.

 

Heart

I found my soul within the burnt pages of an old book, or maybe it was while I slept

I realised my heart was never missing and kept in the protecting hands of my sister as I cried on the bathroom floor and missed her

I’ll find my mind

Where it was lost in the dogfights

Flashbacks to late nights

And purple skies

Where river meets fire

Sweet Tralee

The soil’s as fresh as honey
The finches choir in the trees
Where the flowers grow
Oh the fuchsia that spring in Tralee

They buried a man with his dog
The son sang the widow a song
They’re crying for peace,
In fields of red and green
Oh, what happened in sweet Tralee?

The Irish still drink in Tralee
Their dogs all chained to the trees
There’s a cold in the breeze,
And the hounds they will freeze
Because the men want a drink in Tralee

The children are out grabbing thorns
They’d be safe to their mothers they swore
But they’re watching their das,
And it’s sure they will catch
The curse of the thirst those men bore

Their nails are soil-free
But the hands that serve us aren’t clean
The oaths are all fake,
It’s the money they take,
Agus na Gaeilge, abash by the sea