now this would be the point where i have you all but lose myself to the 'wrap-up wrapitup sean' that constantly shouts, whispering, guaranteeing me a fool, urging my eventful fail. I fall. I need to get past it. keep writing. don't edit. don't change. I've done a lot of odd things in my time, i've evolved but haven't changed. does that make sense? Iv'e watched myself do things i wouldn't want to, like it was on tv, saying to myself "glad that isn't me!" then i wake up to a hurt head and she looks disappointed, or, satisfied, or loved, i never can tell. too busy figuring out a get-out plan. im always trying to get out before im asked to leave, too scared to really believe im accepted because to be accepted is to be wanted and all i ever do is leave people disappointed, i mean im okay for a while, we can chat about rubbish but when it comes down to it. to the nitty gritty how do you feel about life and me conversation my view becomes shrouded crowded with demons. I don't see life in black and white or all colour it's just london shades of grey, and every day the time falls into a clock that ticks towards a future i can only stop by not being what i know i will. no matter how i run my failures only make me stronger and i go on for longer and i, i , i , i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i survive. just about every time, coming out the fire burned- uglier than before but bloody learned knowing that when my time does come it's been well earned as it seems like the way life hurts most when it pulls the rug under you as soon as you think you've figured out how it works- i just keep talking others words in my order. i get better, i become geekier with wealth stronger, real country, real city. real real for the life that you wouldn't think was. i grow every single moment is mine and im going to go on that stage and shine. when it's show time. and though those times can be sparse from now on im going to experience each one like it's my last. because depression isn't my friend, she's my mistress, my wife is london and at times all i see in her is mistrust, mis placed into another artist pen that's treats her like she's only full of gay muslims in hoodies and hugh grant-type tories. but no. but no. but no. but no. I'm the one. I'm the best Sean Cody Mahoney there ever was, I'm the only Sean Mahoney that ran up west hill when he was thirteen, The only Sean Mahoney who one best boxer of the night on his very first fight, who wrote fifty poems for fifty days straight, who's taken weight and fists in the face with a smile, the same sean who got good looking over night, making every girl from school regret not treating him right, the same Sean who loved, even when no love was given back, who got drained into a withering mess only to bounce back love again, this time it being his pen, and the stage, you see, my words glisten, i get inspiration from dean atta and indigo williams, if silence is not golden then let my words glisten we're the indigo children in constant evolution sometimes i get lost in loneliness yes, sometimes i wish i had a younger mindset and more confidence in my words. but then i realise that it would be a wasted wish, foolish when i can do. so lets,
you either do or you don't
either have or you want
and if you don't have you know
so if you ever get it,
you better let it show
either have or you want
and if you don't have you know
so if you ever get it,
you better let it show
and just like that. i slip out a little more, the more i do the better i get at doing, what's there to prove? what's there to lose?
(tap your feet. nod your head) and
Salut(-
e).
e).