Murdoch Mystery

Portrayed persona you see

I tell you what i'd like you to know

sometimes i don't tell you what id like you to know

but just to ensure that you know it,

ill curl my lip

ill round my shoulders

ill jerk my hips

but you'll know what i want you to know 

amidst the smoke on the dance floor,

blaring though the PA

ill make sure my intent is portrayed

by the way i sip my rum

you'll know what i want you to know

but what of the rest of me

the world i cannot describe

what of the world that is not even mine

for that i cannot claim to know

the location of its key

what of the smile that only the mirror sees

the me that changes night by night

in flighty dreams

in nightmares

the person of the interior

that has privilege to swear

and behave like an oaf

what of that person

may he not swill in a trough behind closed doors

may he not fuck in the quiet of the barn

ill not tell you of much of me

maybe most on somedays

the days when i am most interior

when i am most the smoke of my cigarette

whispering into the night

into the morning and then the afternoon

and day again

the days when my shadow is more myself

than my lips

may i not have my days in the shade?

must i relinquish the innards of my eyelids?

must you see the pinky flesh next my bones?

is it not enough to know that it is the same colour as yours?

that i am made of the same truths and the same lies?

that my bones are ground by the same fallacies?

must you gather my footsteps 

to the extent that i can no longer bear to tread?

when in truth my innards are something only i can touch

when in truth my innards will always cause me more confusion

than anything else in this life

when in truth if truth can be squeezed from my soul

it will reveal life to me and only me

have my lips

my thighs

my hands wrapped around you

In truth my innards are not under lock and key

but they can truly only be seen by me.

3 Friends, 3 Enemies

Big, brown, beautiful and burst,
You reside in the house of a friend.
I sink slowly into you 
As my eyes roll back and I seek oblivion.
Cracked leather tickles my fingers,
gives me pleasure.
Constant creaking under me 
As I shift and jig on top of you.
How many secrets do you know?
Has a fancy of mine indulged on top of you?
You groan at chewing gum which falls from my mouth and coats your skin.
I stare at it blankly then forget it
And continue swilling beer from a can before i beg:
Release me my taxi fare home old and dear confidant of mine?


Royal blue, regal yellow,
How majestic you are in comparison to me,
The greying lump that mounts you with great force.
I weep and see your distinguished figure crushed by my indignation to rise.
Your grandeur becomes sodden with sweat,
How ghastly this scene has become,
A turd on a sliver platter.
Still your great arms almost hug me
As I hold on tight and wait for the morning.
Violent shakes and blurts of my insides
Do their best to make you look ironic.
I roll off and you slowly puff out to your original beauty,
I neglect to thank you for your patience.


Your attributes almost entirely hidden
By knitted blankets of
Red, green, yellow, blue, pink, white, purple, black.
Under the woolen mantle,
As well as me,
Lies your dark wooden structure
and adornments of pale green with embroidered flowers.
Again I'm a slump and again I make you look ironic,
I seem to mock those flowers
As they do everything they can to be sweet.
My nails cut into you without pity,
You are stoic and support me regardless.
If you were wise and really cared
You'd spring into action and see me on my way.
But why should you care,
When I just trickled Irn Bru down your side
With no intention of clearing it up.

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