Broken (Why I Write)

I’ve tried to figure out
how and what and why
 
Keep coming back to cowardice
to ego
to wanting to be more than
the big dumb fuck that lifts heavy things
that can put a man out with one shot
fractured jaws
broke ribs
snapped wrists
damn near broke everything you can on a man (nearly did the same to myself)
sure they were different men
but I was good at what I did  
I was loved, feared, respected, revered by guys that didn’t understand what drove me….
the shit felt good
felt like all the love I never got
except when I was breaking my brothers face on the floor
or when I was able to take shots  
keep on truckin
because dad would put the gloves on too
hit me like he would an adult  
 
some days I ate those shots as he screamed at me to get the fuck up
be a man
men don’t fucking cry
he liked to uppercut me in the solar plexus
till I was throwing up my breakfast
curled around his fist
to feel his love
 
most days felt like I deserved it
beatings were some form of testosterone fuelled man-making ritual
believed it the way propagandised  
Nazi-kids would scream Heil fucking Hitler
yeah I was that deep
deep into the brainwashing
the beatings
the trickle of my own blood as it
ran it’s winding way down my nose
learned to love the taste
until I was coarse
harsh  
biting and unrelenting  
(still eat my steak raw)…..
 
in reception I beat a boy senseless
dragged him face down on the carpet
till his skin peeled
my nails snapped in his hair
teacher that dragged me off him
looked at me like I was an animal
fear in his face made me feel
powerful  
I liked the taste of it on my boy-tongue it was sweet
so fucking sweet
 
I wasn’t for school wasn’t trained for civilisation  
 
expelled
17 more times  
reputation followed me like
the stench of carrion
reeked of it  
didn’t know friends
all I ever knew was the grinding wheel
taking chunks from my humanity….
 
saw him curb-stomp my mother
the sound of rape screamed from
behind a slightly cracked door
my brother was scared
hid behind the voices
that started to whisper in his head
and I hid behind
the honing of my knuckles
 
Mother would hug me
ask me for help
for protection
told me I was her young man
that I needed to do better
became an island in the storm
burnt away my childhood
till I was the thing that everyone needed
was my fathers rage
my mothers sanctuary
all that was left of me
were the things I crushed down
and the praise

Yeah,
that shit gets you every time,
right in the places you remember you feel