i wrote this after my mother died 2 1/2 years ago, its been in the drafts of my tumblr since then.

Interesting.

death and other things.

3 months on.

today marks the 3 month anniversary of my mothers death, the cause i’ll be finding out on the 30th of this month. it has changed me irreparably as a person, a part of me disappeared when she died, and i can’t quite describe which part but all i know is that i am a lot more self-aware these days. it made me realise how much - even subconsciously - parents come into your everyday actions, even the smallest of things sticks in my throat.  it’s not that i now find myself aware of when i think “what would mum think” but that i am now aware that in a lot of things i did there is a certain feeling you associate with your parents that you find as a justification of your actions, its the most minuscule of things and I’ve never noticed it before but you could say its like a background noise, a cement wall behind you that you never notice, but that has now become apparent. it’s not a phrase, or words, just a certain twitch of the consciousness that allows you do to things. incredibly hard to describe as its milliseconds long. 

the grief has sunk in, it’s not an everyday thing anymore, my priorities have switched but because of this the stabbing memories and realisations are now a lot more painful when they do. the strength of the grief is still the same, still incapacitating when it hits, just shorter. i’ve learnt to ignore it (and i realise thats completely wrong) and focus my energy on positivity. 

i have no excuses anymore, everything i want to do ill do off my own back, she is my only reason for doing anything these days. she gets me out of bed, she provides me with what seems like endless energy & passion. 

whatever i accomplish in life, it’ll be because of her, and solely for her. 

one of the largest changes is that i now longer take anything for granted, be friendly to everyone, appreciate everything, everyone has their own lives, everyone is a universe and you should be pleased people have let you in even the smallest way. when you greet someone, look them in the eye and try to take in properly what they are saying. 

You'll be taken as far as your confidence lets you

the adventure as strong as the amount of steps that you prove.

Breathe deep, hold your heart in your hand & slyly slip knowledge into every cunning plan

because the abyss will gaze long into you, its has your history on its side and it knows what you do. 

It'll sink in, to the caves of your being, sat heavy like a stone for however long it finds appealing.

It will snarl its teeth and wait, sleep sound inside your ribcage.

You will be taken as far as your confidence lets you.

You men made of stone, steady rusting your metal

hey Achilles! how's the ankle?

Is Hercules still hobbling afraid of his back still?

You immortals, you men of plenty

untouchables sporting desire offensive, bric-a-brac brains and lack of perspective

oh faith of men, how secure you are to your hours of sunlight

how tight and rigid your movement shave become.

You must learn to face the night.

'EXILE'

live

Bury Tomorrow / Chunk! no, Captain Chunk / Demoraliser / Napoleon

I live for those cats whom simply snarl back when I bare my teeth.

Those kids with green eyes and a killer instinct, finger guns in the air shooting the breeze all swagger about the daggers in their smile. 

The no rope's heavy enough to hang this hope humans who have clocked its all a game and now sit steady scoping like a snake who spotted where to catch a ladder, silently rolling the dice between fingers memorising the curves and turns.
so that when the throw comes, the full force of purpose kills any competition.

The plotters, the rats, the bombers, alley cats

and those seldom speakers keeping a faith lit religious in their heart.

This is for those biding-their-time motherfuckers, those who step still undercover. 

Those who work to find a want to need, those who need to work to want to but don't let dreary days shift their bones to nonchalance. 

Im with you, you fucks, let's collapse the castle, I've got no plans other than success
so i'll see you climbing over those bodies that mountain as the rest.  

We picked apart our brains in the Summer plumage of industries afterglow

placing feet to feet in ruins incomplete on land once lauded as gold.

The sun was setting behind piles of brick that once held so many individual histories, but not no more since the world moved on without a whimper and forgot the many miles it had forged with a million young hands.

The lack of presence where promise once was felt peaceful. 

Not like i was tampering with a sleeping lion but instead was buried in the ribcage of a dead god that was no longer relevant. 

Industry decays in the same organic manner as organic matter, the effects on the grieving are the same. 

But there is creativity in every crevice,

I held aloft a single tire whilst balanced on another upright and recited

"this too has passed, this too has passed"

Back then when she sipped our diction slowly.

I don't know what I'm feeding but this essence is malignant, theres shadows stuck to my lungs

and with every breathe i linger on for a few seconds in the haze of post existence

between two breaths, between two lives lost lighting over a garbage can fire in the bronx. 

This flats too small, I keep feeding my hands some delicate plans

but i'll meditate on it and sip spirits with this spirit that is glimpsed in the flickr of a streetlamp

keep it close to my heart.

I drank so much coffee i fucking spewed! i fucked it all goal like and cast my tongue to the sky.

yo DJ turn your fucking treble down mate - this is ludicrous, I'm trying to have a decent conversation with some low eyed brothers and i cant hear the bile i spit from my stomach. Im yelling parables like theres no tomorrow and they sit and lurch their ears without hearing a damned thing!

How is the lot supposed to come together, I'm done banging my fist, they cant hear shit.

This Motown loudness ain't settling well in my stomach, I'm a luddite for technology, prone to sit and strum some old one string tales about how she ain't coming home no more.

See my man long fingers keeps scratching, keeps muttering about maintaining and the golden goliath at the end of his road, he chats some rare shit but doesn't shift units just sits stifling looking all post mortem.

But you don't see him like I do, I see a here too big for ambiguity. He's a cat thats watched too many suns set, the kind who fought to understand beauty. I've watched him bury love and cradle success bigger than Everest. because he's just a kid i knew that got overtaken by age, whose shadows switched sides.

But he sunk low - he saw too much, many masks. Caught too many daggers in smiles and sunk behind the concrete poles of bridges, waiting.