Never really knew who I am, everyone
says something different. I am a thousand
things. Exceeding expectations,
constantly disappointing. My mother
is a hippy, a philosopher. London born;
Oxford made, and in love with
my father, Limerick man,
clawed his way up from the bottom, philosophy,
UCD. Are you beginning to see the pattern?
Spawned from thinkers and writers, I know that
every moment that passes is an opportunity
to ponder, to spill my guts to you strangers.
I live in the country by the beach, with a strange accent
neither London nor Irish. I am nothing
with no identity. I leave it with the farmboys
that continually excite me.