Alvy Carragher has been writing seriously for just over a year and in her latest blogpost the 24-year recites a powerful piece of slam poetry titled ‘Numb’.
The Galwegian native recalls past relationships in this incredible poem about consent.
"And I thought it was my fault, blamed my short skirt, or my big eyes, how they were asking for it under all that mascara."
Uploaded to Alvy's YouTube account on Thursday, the video has already received over 2,000 hits and the writer hopes that posting it online will mean more women will see it.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YT5yw1X-ncQ
Numb
A mouldy old house party crushed into the dustbin,
As he kissed me, the smell of a dead fish,
And I was thinking, this is not ideal, not ideal
Kept glancing over his kisses at a girl in the corner
Passed out from space cakes and a dog with cross-eyes
I could have sworn wanted to save me
In the cold room, just upstairs, my hands shivering
In the new moon of a fresh year
Thinking this is not what I resolved
The burn of whiskey
Between us trying to mean something
And I was thinking, this is not romantic, not romantic
His hands snatching at me in darkness
The black of spiders crawling in my eyelids
The scrawl of his body pushing me backwards
And I was thinking, not here, not here
But he didn’t know what no meant
Didn’t know that it was a barrier I was setting up between us
That it was a wish not to wake four times from my dreams
To his hands and all their nightmares
It meant keep your trousers on and the lights off
And he might not have heard the words
The first hundred times
No meant that it hurt to be drowned in desire
No was the white of my mind as I shut down
And off until it was all just silence
Till it all just became movements
No was my eyes fixed on a ceiling crack
As he moved above me
Hoping it would splinter outwards
And let the stars through
No is a word I’ve had misunderstood before
By a long term boyfriend
After we first split,
And he whispered to me in the
Back room of my mother’s house
The same thing:
The step too far,
The kind of guy that doesn’t know
What no means
Afterwards, saying we’ll get married
And my heart screaming no, no, no
As I lay there crying
My heart saying, baby,
You don’t know what you’ve done
And I thought it was my fault,
Blamed my short skirt,
Or my big eyes,
How they were asking for it
Under all that mascara
I’ve heard this same story too many times
And most days it’s not even mine
These skeletons of men that don’t know
What no means
And we tell each other stories about one-night stands
That don’t sound like one night stands, laugh-hollow
At things we don’t understand, not realising that
The way you said no, it meant something.
Even if he never heard you
This is not our fault
No short skirt, or lingerie, or red lipstick
Can speak for you
Because no means no
And what about the wedge of another word,
Beneath your tongue
Not sure you should say it,
Because it belongs with strangers faces,
And dark alleys and spiked drinks,
Rape is a whisper from another girl
A kind of helpless stranger
I kissed both those men goodbye
Said I’d call or text
Because I wanted it to be more
Than a headache of memory
More than a dead thing sitting on my chest
More than the thought of them
Criss-crossed and dead eyed above me
How it happens again and again and again
More than just a girl being fucked-over
And under until she can’t remember
If she said no
Can’t remember if she meant it
Video via YouTube/Alvy Carragher 
