We all piled out of the pub
****** as a load of newts;
'Where to now boys?'
Bellowed naughty Niall O 'Neill
(that's notorious nineteen pints a night Niall)
As he tottered over to his Pa's Rolls Royce.

'Do ye think ye should be driving
With that record-breakin' skinful
I just seen you put away?'
Enquired serious Sean slurringly
From his slightly inconvenient
Viewpoint in the beery gutter.

So we all clambered gaily into the car
And roared off into the enchanted night
And then this ****** stupid clodhopper
Who didn't even have his driving licence yet
Came round the next corner in his Ford
And got sent to Kingdom-sodding-Come.

'Oh ****, would ye just look at the mess
The oul' fella's made of me Daddy's car,
And it's his pride and joy so it is!'
Cried Niall O'Neill in incandescent rage,
As he surveyed the largest insurance claim
In the County Wicklow for twenty years.

How fortunate Father Tucker and Garda Sergeant O'Toole
Could both testify from their vantage point
In the front seat of the devastated Roller,
The accident was not Niall's fault at all, at all,
As the other stupid sober ****** was on
The wrong side of the ****** street.

Am I asleep, am I awake?
When I saw you, I felt something so special
And all those daydreams where I pictured you
I've never felt like this before
Cause lately I've been dreaming about you a lot

Truly, Madly, Deeply I am falling for you
I'm not sure about what makes you so beautiful
But I know it's gotta be you
For you got that one thing within you

I wish we could stay up all night
So we can dance the best song ever
For me everything you do is magic
How I wish you were my last first kiss

Every time I see you my tongue gets tied
Cause you are so irresistible
I know that we've only met
But can we pretend it's love?
I wish you could be my summer love
Cause nobody compares to you
In the way you stole my heart

I may not be tall as Harry Styles
I may no possess Louis Tomlinson's angelic voice
I may never be as cool as Liam Payne
Or as cute as Niall Horan
I may not even wear my fedora as Zayn Malik does
I know that I am no part of One Direction and I never will be
But one thing's for sure, you are my one direction

Rosanna knew she was kidnapped. She was taken all those years ago. She never knew her new family was really as bad as they were. Her older brother Liam changed after high school. He wasn't ever really normal. This was something she always knew.
Being nine years younger than him, he was her protector. The day he snapped was about a week after he turned nineteen. He killed his parents and buried there bodies in unmarked graves behind the house. He was ready to **** himself when Rosanna got home from school.
He knew that before he took his life that there was something she should know. He told her that she was adopted legally but not obtained that way. The family that adopted her were the ones that took her away. He told her that he loved and her birthday was her own, that he had killed their parents and she would have to survive on her own. He said his final goodbye but he never would have known that she would snap to that day and he wouldn't let go.
She took the gun from his hands and threw it out the window. She pulled a chair over from the kitchen table and smacked her brother in the head with tears rolling down her face. She told him he was an idiot for forgetting the promise that he made just a few years ago. He said she'd never be alone, that he'd always be there. She reminded him of this while hugging him around the waist.
He wanted to be alone and tried to push her away. She wouldn't have it, especially not today. This only made her hold on tighter to the only family she had left. He picked her up and carried her back up to his room. She was still crying when he sat down on his bed and told her that he was sorry. She cried in his arms, late into the night.
She woke in her brothers room, on his empty bed. Frantically she ran down stairs to find her brother there. He was setting the kitchen table with a breakfast made for two. He saw her and he smiled. He went and scooped her up. He was feeling sorry for making her cry. He didn't  know his actions were the partial onset of her taking her life.
She was diagnosed as schizophrenic exactly one year from that day. He had no idea she would trip the way she did. The year she turned fifteen she went on a trip. She heard her brother and her boyfriend, they were the voices in her head. They were telling her to **** herself and that is what she did.
She thought about taking a rope and jumping from the balcony but she didn't want to display herself  for all the world to see. Her next option was to take a knife and slit both her wrists but that was just the thing everyone would expect. Finally she came to the decision such as this, she would get the bottle of ibuprofen and take all the pills at once.
Her brother had come home to find her laying on her bed. He thought she was sleeping but really she was dead. She wasn't too far gone, though, she was barely breathing. He sat her up against the bed, laid a towel on her lap and stuck his finger down her throat. She threw up the contents of her stomach. The whole pills and all.
She woke up unexpectedly in her brother arms. Another body was now laying in another unmarked grave. This one belonged to her ex-boyfriend. Liam's reason for this crime was this and only this. His sister nearly took her life because of the voices that were triggered when her boyfriend told her to the face that he was cheating on her.
He got all this from the note that was on the bed beside her. When she laid there on her bed going cold from all the poison. After he had saved her life he took the life of the person that didn't deserve any affection from his angel ever again.
Liam now has a new toy, a nineteen year old name Niall. It's been four years from the day his sister tried to take her life. She is happy with a guy that she can truly love. Caleb is the cutest thing and he doesn't mind that sometimes she is going to breakdown and he will see her cry. He doesn't even mind that fact he's going to have to share with Niall and Liam at times. She knows that Caleb will protect her just like Liam had. He knows of Liam's crimes. It's all happily ever after because her heart won't be broken this time.

When I say I study English words,
I get ‘isn’t that the language you learnt first?’
But trying to put forth thoughts from my brain
is like trying to explain the way light travels in particles
and waves.
The way it cut through the rain like some god’s rays.
I’d like some way to say I was elevated to elation with little to no explanation,
but it seems such a wasted aspiration.
I’m learning what words are worth and I’m lost searching for verses.
Abused and overused trying to convey ‘truth’,
it’s so easy for words to sound absurd with everything uttered so easily misconstrued
semantics are what create and what ruin you.
So much lost from synapse to typing,
from trying intangible angles of experiencing in writing.
Don’t relax your syntax,
it’s a flexible lexicon but you’ve got to know what you’re trying to show
or just live in hope.
Frustrated sitting in time and space wasted,
unable to find some words that relate
to this random spate
of brain activity,
then successive impressions longing to escape expressive oppression.
There’s nothing like reading a piece that leaves a lingering feeling,
something you’d been fleeing but found relief in this peace of mind
that someone, somewhere is articulating lived sensations with words
you could never seem to find.
I try to right things, when it comes to writing.
It stresses me and tests me trying to express freely,
until I’m convinced I don’t care and never wanted anything from this anyway.
And then a star fades in
and my panic starts waning
because there’s someone out there to whom it’s relating;
or the friend I never thought was reading
says it gave them a feeling and
somehow meaning
was found.
So I think what I’m trying to say is words are worthless
but sometimes they work and that’s worth it.

I see her walking by
Amongst the crowd she walks
Clutching her schoolbooks in her arms
The whole world glistens in her eyes

No one sees her in the bustling halls
No one notices her , no one at all
Every day , no one at all
Except me

Head down, I pass life by
A dark stranger in a world of light
Schoolbooks kept close to my chest
Shielding my mind from the loud universe

I'm just another blank canvas,
In this town of Van Goghs.
Take no heed of where my footsteps follow
I can't trust my own **** self

I'm about to pass her
My heart thumps
My blood pumps
I wish this would last forever

But yet it hurts
Because I can never have her
From the inside the feeling burns
But I still love her

Sinking further into this dark hole
Like the life's draining out of me
Whispers of screams circle my brain
I wish this was just a dream

It aches, oh how it kills me
I can never live a normal joyful life
The familiar emptiness within me whistles a frozen tune
Unloved. Unwanted.

Dear Mr. Styles,

To some you are just a member of a UK boy band
but to me you are so much more
Your voice has put together pieces of my heart
and brought my soul back to life
Your personality has given me courage
to treat myself with respect
The way you carry yourself has inspired me to be strong without being prideful
Your sense of humor has caused me to laugh through tears
The things you say during interviews are so random
It's the way you make me feel good about being different
that makes me proud to be a part of the One Direction fandom
You have taught me to not be ashamed to want to be with a decent man
whenever I was feeling down you, Liam, Zayn, Niall and Louis
were all there to hold my hand
It's because of you I have learned to stand up for myself
and not take **** from anybody
You have done more than just make music
you have reminded me that I am somebody who can do amazing things in this life
Thank you for always staying grounded
and not allowing fame to turn you into an *******
Happy 22nd Birthday
You are loved immensely


(Every woman has a celebrity crush who makes her feel great about herself. Mine is Harry Styles.)

I love your hair when you've just woken up.
I love your tired voice.
I love when you're kissing me and we start laughing.
I love the way just touching you skin to skin makes me feel home.
I love the faces you make in photos.
I love how many different shades of green your eyes are.
I love how you can never stay awake through a movie, but you'll say you're paying attention if I ask.
I love that you throw things when you're frustrated, cause it means you let it out and don't let it hurt you inside. Broken things can be fixed. Broken people are much harder to resolve.
I love when you sing along to your favorite songs and send me videos.
I love your writing.
I love that when you're drunk, all you want is me.
I love that when I kiss you it feels like we can't live without each other.
I love how truly, truly kind you are.
I love your colorful swear words.
I love taking care of you.
I love how you are always there for me.
I love holding your hand.
I love your integrity and how much you want to reach your goals.
I love your courage. You're so brave, and I don't even know if you realize.
I love that I always know when you're done sneezing, cause you only say "choo!" on the very last one.
I love that we say good night every night.
I love staying in bed with you ALL day.
I love when you make your inner monologue outer and I can hear all your beautiful, funny, brilliant thoughts.
I love that you don't let anyone treat you badly.
I love how much you love your dog.
I love your hands.
I love the way your neck smells.
I love falling asleep in your arms.
I love all the accents you do.
I love that curl that always goes inside out.
I love that you can make me laugh until I cry.
I love how much I want you, all the time.
I love that you have a cardboard cutout of that guy (Niall, as you told me vehemently) from one direction.
I love planning a life with you, and laughing and joking about naming our kids odd things, but knowing that underneath we are really going to have a life together.
I love that the only tears I ever shed over you are tears of love, laughter, and joy.
I love that you kept the rose I gave you on our first date.
I love how much I trust you.
I love that you love all the things about me I was worried nobody would ever love.
I love that you want to talk to me all the time the same way I want to talk to you all the time...
But most of all
I just love you. Always.

Valentines Day 2016

Has it tip toed into your life yet?
A little dream that was me?
Did it kiss you on the forehead?
And push you out to sea?
Just a dream, a second,
Dream at a glance,
I don’t want to be forgotten
And lost in the choppy sea.

Have you breathed your soft whisper?
The ear it fell upon was me,
It kissed my cheek ever softly,
Before I foolishly set it free,
But I hold it for a second,
I caught at least a glance,
I wont let you be forgotten
As dreams upon a stormy sea.

Niall Best--- 9/1/11

A rock . . .
well really the brow of a rock . . .
its heart lay deep and hidden,
but when I lay my cheek against it
in the heat of the summer it cooled
and I could feel the great primeval thump of its heart
comforting me, when nothing else was understood.

I clutched this great rock,
my only constant in a life of changes,
while the earth itself, with me holding on tight,
flew at increasingly careless speeds
throughout my teenage years.

Beneath the arched viaduct it squatted
uncomplaining of the shafts of steel
and the weight of the stone it carried;
my teenage weight, of little importance.
It was always there when I came,
in dream, or even reality
taking the time to be calm and listen
as I told it of my hurts and young confusions.

One Summer, I foreswore all others
and promised it my heart,
if it would only turn it to stone,
and though the Rock it listened,
I knew the answer without us having to speak;
I was being selfish
and it would have given all of its
great and brooding strength
to feel, just a little, of my pain.

                                                      ©Copyright Niall OConnor 2012/2014

There's a song
I can't listen to it now
It was my favorite
I remember
That night
I heard you sing it
I looked at you
And at that moment
I realized I was in love with you
That same night you told me
You loved me
And now....
You left yesterday
You told me sorry so many times
You feel bad
But don't
But yesterday...
I was crying
I calmed down a little after
That's when I saw the stuffed animal
you gave me
For Valentine's Day
And I started crying again
I was listening to music
Trying to go to sleep
That song
This town-Niall Horan
Started to play
I burst out crying
Music has always been a part of me
But now
I can't listen to it
Cuz every song
Reminded me of you
And it hurts to know
your not mine
I hate the thought
Of you with someone else
It makes me want to **** myself
just knowing
I may not ever be yours again

yes, i lived a life, but it wasn't a life of that much spectacular; but it certainly felt as good as squeezing out a warm ****.

is this some of cipher i'm supposed to
understand,
   what i mean by that is:
           alpha males, betas, omegas...
    while lo! and behold...
                           a ******* *tiger mother...
a cougar...
         so i'm the *** that's good at
                                                  spelling?
ne­ver mind, whiskey's flowing
     the delirium is over and,
   i'm finally appreciating the pedantic
bits of the sunday times newspaper...
and it's wednesday?
                roland white has now
become my favourite journalist...
       i have to give to niall ferguson
too... primarily because
   i too watched a youtube video on
                    steven pinker...
          but dr. pangloss aside:
                 **** me was voltaire neurotic
about african *****... not richards
(that is).
            honestly though...
               a newspaper only makes sense
if it's published on a sunday...
              the rest of the days it's just
        sensationalism, if anything:
                    so much happened,
               but we still only managed to cover
a decimal point...
                   as a young man (it would appear)
i learned to be an old ****
     (which means luck, in another
language)...
          drunk like a ***,
                          lived like a spider,
                 and was really good
   at teaching infant cats:
                       not to take a **** in his bed
ever again... qat qaeda can kiss my ***:
     muchas gracias...
                 but i still have to make
  a concession point...
                   whoever bred maine *****?
   a mighty fine job
                   turning the feline into
                       a kanine... clingy buggers.
- but yet, journalism only makes
sense on a sunday...
                                   the rest of the week
it's a refrigerator toying with
                  humming, or bee noise.