Lodon story part one.

he walks with london on his shoulders,a young man who's had enough- but doesn't yet know.

the streets mean a lot to him,over the past three years he's decided these streets are his home.

First it was the home, then the new home, then the old home again then two, three, too may flats

north-to north west in general was his home, as he still didn't know to what street he'd next go.

a quiet scream from within has him pause, an old friend with his family exit from old doors, still he walks and doesn't stop till camden lock, takes out a couple of pennies, watches them drop, waits for the plop.

Tonight he's backstage searching for lines, tomorrow he'll again play his part but right now he has to find something that can wake him up, as for so long he's been given too many reasons to simply, give up.

It's a life led to impress his friends, so much grace given but where do you go when the show ends?
with each step london puts a bit more pressure on his legs yet there's something in this night- like-
he doesn't know where it's going to to next. So with each step he looks out for a situation he wouldn't have expected and by the time he reaches the flat in mornington crescent his hands holding keys are hesitant, awakened to that he doesn't have to go home if it doesn't feel right, goes from zone two to one in one night.
by this point the ipod has died but that's alright, as he's quietly confident tonight will change his life.

affair.

I never listened enough to my mum
she would always say i was headed for big things
something like a, phenomenon,
i never knew where it came from
as i was always, not, well behaved and-

figured, you could make a man from clay

open his eyes to see a new day

create ears to hear all wisdom

give him a happy home to come from

but given the choice he still wont stay

never do never will, 

held hearts always hold out for a cheap thrill
started as daily visits while he was at work
turned into walks through the park,
swalling a bitter pill when they where together

she wanted a nurturer, it's not romantic

but i tried to help her, and that urge to kill

went to her other, other-

felt my lovers future fall through broken hands 

and the enemies blood in my mouth

the enemy is myself spat out i look up

see the man she never wanted to make angry

i knew he would, but i never knew it'd be..

i guess her bruises never came from affection
leaving me the man who's help only hurt

destined to become a crippled contradiction

we lived a dream that's a little too non- fiction.

no dream has ever been all it seems,

now I'm bursting at the seams, 

depending on what way his fists lean

teeth are seen and feel mine are gone

and i wonder how long this pain will carry on

if i my arms get their act together and no longer be so weak 

i can pick myself up from the street

but his feet on my back put a stop to that 

people from the pub now come out

i wonder if what i did was really so wrong,

i was the man she could depend on

then again it was their bed we slept on.

these street lights are so orange i see all in sepia

i dedicate my last thought to my mother, 

and am sorry to have disappointed her.

dibbidy do-yo.

Sean Mahoney 101

I think I've slipped into depression again. Typical of me, The kid that never accepted the life expected yet still hears the doubts. while i sleep uneasily in a city that's unseasonably cold being cool never helped me in the winter, a genuine article should stay true no matter the weather. no matter the weather. I'm. losing my confidence. On a long, long path piggybacking a pissed off conscience to a destination That can either be two steps or years away, dedicated to a way of life where i'll get paid to say what's on my mind. now isn't that cool. aren't i the shit. but i forget it, unable to address that I'm one of the best. That I am THE best. because no one can do sean cody mahoney quite like sean cody mahoney can we're all doing well but some do well good impressions of others, for them, the stardom can come early. they have an audience, the person they're impersonating- and good for them, I guess I get a little jealous because for some reason, i find it really hard to be myself, or believe that myself is enough. If you ever see a man understand in my reflection is the kid that got pulled out of class because he wasn't smart enough, who would walk with his friends after school the same old route, then after they had all got home, turn around and walk a whole new way because he didn't have the guts to tell them his parents had split up. Trying to understand how he lost a fight in which he didn't even get hurt, sleeping with the coldest body in his bed, treasuring a secret until that secret left, excuse me for that last one not being in depth. depth. wordplay. my words apply to those that have trouble getting by but i preach to the choir, my own pastor. myself. I don't believe in myself enough, no confidence in my confidant, myself, my god my help never comes. and when it does it's to help someone else pull through not that i regret it- i just keep typing. sometimes i don't know whether im searching for truth or another convenient rhyme. i scrutinise every single line that comes out destroy it before anyone else WILL because I'm STILL the fool of the room the clown that knows no self worth but can smile like he's never known hurt leaving stages early because if i stay on any longer they're gonna boo me- cut out the inspiration from my eyes, i no longer feel beauty in myself. my god, my help don't come. and when it does it's only to tell me not to be so- so- so- lonely. cut the inspiration from my eyes, shave, cut my hair wear normal clothes so i can be just like all the other guys, put the flower back on the wall, it will be like being sixteen again, but without those eczema ridden red eyes, couldn't help but stand out no matter how hard i tried, they were ugly eyes, the type you wouldn't want to look at, the type people wouldn't look at, so when i got on that stage i made sure i was the one to look at. now it's all gone and im constantly trying to be on form, am i the same as the others that aren't in the norm? then im not different at all, but whether it's good or not, there's no group for me yet. myself. my god my help comes but when it does i refuse it. then it gets regretted. lord, oddness is subjective but it's like im breaking my neck for a new perspective. never been what's expected, though now nothing i do is accepted- more on that later- though hopefully none more of that in the future. not a man. a lion under shroud a bomb to the crowd.. that i am a bomb, when i get on that stage im more than a man. no. mno  noanodnsfoasdnfoidsalnfo no! I'm/ not looking for that. (hear what I'm saying I'm not making it right) a breakdown. haha. argh..

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

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). 

say it right.

I drew a quick breath

as the rain hit my neck,

to shield short pain my collar was lifted

fact is my skin's always been a little sensitive.

and I thought: like feist- i feel it all

but like dizzee- i stand up tall

as if everything i see is apart of me

and I'm embodied in everybody

but then everyone moves in different ways
so much so i get to the point where
i can't find myself some days.

So yeah, i've been needing some help lately

don't yet leave I need to listen to someone other than jay-z,

telling others "I'm not depressed Just stressed"

not depressed just stressed.

to everything and all I've given my best

apart from myself. With that I need your help.

words hurt but not as much as fists do,

that's what i thought until i realized

i wasn't strong enough to say- I miss you.

"so, how's it going?"

"you alright?" "How am I?--- Okay"
although recently it's felt like

every word I've said to you I've

been saying the wrong way.
Like, if i could just, say it right.

Your hair was the lamp post.
You hair was a lamp post giving light

to a night almost lost

(hear what I'm saying)

of all the videogames I played donkey kong

country was the best. but that doesn't matter

because you're the coolest girl I ever met. No

as soon as the feel of life began to get me bored

you didn't so much reinvent the wheel

but give me a hoverboard

it's hip hop on an accordion

tin- pan blues with a heavy base

something that works though at first

you'd have though it was out of place

so how can you expect me to understand

and stand and watch you hold his hand?

I mean,

he does what he can

I do what i will

he says what they say

i say what i feel

he's keeping it real

While I'm trying to live a dream

for years i've been cooking a scheme
and i don't even know what that means
like we're some carbonara dream team
hear what I'm saying I'm not saying it right
hear what I'm saying I'm not saying it right

look,

your relationship with him is respected, really

i really do accept it

I just don't understand why our friendship

has to feel so contraceptive?

as if we're not connected

acting like you never felt it

on that kilburn station underground night

when the rain and light hit your hair just right

and i suppose you've never been able to know

for when we kissed your eyes where closed

but me, i found it too hard to believe

so mine where open

trust me, in that moment, 

time moved in slow motion and

in each raindrop was our reflection

that's why I still have these emotions

two years by and I'm still haunted

by this beautiful past

and it's only when I'm looking back

this new future has hits me too fast

too hard are these two hearts to last

further than.. us? fuck.
hear what I'm saying

I'm not saying it right.

hear what I'm saying I'm not saying it right

Hear what I'm saying I'm not saying it right

It's not about you me or him

it's about the loss of love at first sight

to the same thing

it wasn't about the fame

it was about hitting the stage
and no longer feeling the same old same

I'm not insane for saying this, right?

just understand, i don't need all this

to be up there, i would pause

every applause

and give back every clap

because when with you

I didn't have to act

and i don't even want it back

i know it sounds distorted

to want to go back to when

i wanted to go forward
because what was
still is and that's flawed

and you don't need to know this

but as i go on and ramble
as i always seem to do

i get closer

and i realize, I'm was saying it right.

I just... didn't want to say it.

Showing my age.

some girls move one up and down

It's the best connection to get,

that's why i hate it when we

get moving up and down and she

doesn't look me in the eye.

an all too frequent effect when with

a girl that wants to see someone else

she fucks as a cry for help

it's not that I don't realize this but

I left the game for the same reason

she did not. to love with body parts

so you can silence the cry of a heart

no way will she ever be replaced

her mistakes are expressed on my face

a permanent scowl to remind lovers

we murder all things it's in out nature

staring into the reflection of my river:
My love is the very best.

the best you could find

my love is love refined

my love is love defined

a love that's never been mine

a love that is made only to save

a love that inspires adventure

a love that lets you rest for an age.

and now I say this every week

a pastor to my own sermon i preach

to not be the man who is a leach

so treasure what you got as I'm walking

without. a hand. to hold. and it's winter now

and I'm feeling cold. and i 1ook to the mirror

man I've gotten old.

       I've

            been nineteen for three years now,

Holding out for a woman that is perfection personified

two minutes of time can slide into a canyon of luxury,

bones breaking along the way, re-moulding into

something respectable; presentable.

Lets be bodies not be vegetables.
somebody's not forgettables

hurting many people in my own way.

hurting many people in my own way.

this is what i do now, play the role of a bad guy.

my whole life has been just a shade of grey

in a world where no one's good,

and no one is bad... is that true.

can anybody be-- all of one.

can anyone be all love. no.

only one can see all of love.

Believe in a, Love of you. it would be a

fine thing for sure but no, know

nothing beyond seventeen is pure.

Back from America.

Dressed as a man who's kidding himself

T-shirt at night time

summertimes over

can't sleep so he walks the streets

like a loner

no ones in central london at this hour

but they left the lights on

and he walks till he's tired

a bus stop

drunken couple

he's passed out she's pissed off

so we talk

what else to do

she asks what but I'm waiting for

I say the twenty two

she says she is too

fuck

you think about chatting her up

fingers crossed her boyfriend doesn't wake up