Adam McDade
  • Commercial Work
    • Love Serve Remember Foundation
    • Praeger Publishers
    • Misfit Press
    • Walwick Hall Boutique Country Hotel
    • The Northern Correspondent
    • Cirkus IV—The Blue Star
    • Worry Party
    • Scroobius Pip
    • Nesta
    • END. Clothing
    • Restaurant Illustration
    • The Psychedelic Society
    • Dr. Chris Ryan
    • Dead Pirate Crew
    • Firewords Quarterly
  • Personal Work
    • Bali Book
    • Personal Practice
    • BBC 6 Music T-Shirt Day
    • Consumer Cults
    • Regional Narratives
    • Collaborative Illustrations
  • Tattooing
    • Tattoo Portfolio
    • Booking
  • Bio/Contact

Exhale

6pm

Black Vest

Wet Chest

“Be good”

“Please don’t leave”

Open Door – Out.

Open bottle exhales a fizz

Child in turmoil with sticky face

And fear of War.

Blue Jumper

Grey Trousers

Face of comfort eating

With a burden of guilt.

Mother – You where my all.

You held my hand along a tight rope.

Protection and eternal suit of arms.

Provider of all I could endure – of everything that meant anything.

My only grasp on what I knew to be love.

You sacrificed your lungs

Your eyes

Your body

Your time

Your happiness

Your thoughts

Your all

You’re all

I was all.

Mother – You where fighting an eternal war of fire and ice – of Poverty and misery.

I was all, you where all.

Mother- I imitate the tone of your mother in my own selfish pride.

This is not about me.

Mother – I cried every night in pyjamas waiting for your entrance, and waiting to know that you, and I where safe.

Mother - When you finally lost the strength to hold up the umbrella and broke down in an upstairs single bed in fear of demons and rapist cunt.

Mother – When one final nosebleed, one bruise could not heal, One threat of death was comfort.

One final pair of blunt emotional scissors cut away the umbilical cord until you

Snapped

Leaving a shell of a life

That was only ever

A shell.

Mother – Talking to plants and creating your own bubble.

Serving beer to a miniature globe that you will never get to leave:

Content in the mundane.

A glass of wine and an open snore

Trash TV to distract the thought

Standing meal to disguise the disorder.

Mother;

Burden and

Saviour of

Life.


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