Otor Matthew’s “Everything in Between” : An Expression of Pain and Truth

By Emmanuel Daraloye 

Otor Matthew’s “Everything in Between” sounds like a deep breath taken after a long silence. It is a spoken-word EP that carries weight, anger, tenderness and clarity all at once. The poems feel spoken rather than written, as if they were meant to exist in motion, in air, in voice. Matthew begins with a warning that feels almost like a dare. He delivers something gripping, deliberate and unafraid to be messy. By calling it everything, he invites the reader to drop expectations and simply receive.

The opening piece, also, “Everything in Between” sets the tone by rejecting definition. The speaker begins with “This is not a work of art, not perfectly painted poetry, not properly posed prose,” refusing labels even as he speaks them aloud. The repetition and cadence build a rhythm that makes the message land with clarity. The poem clears space for everything that comes after, warning the listener not to expect comfort or simple morals. It is a self-introduction that feels as much lived as spoken.

In “Scum,” Matthew shifts from abstraction to vivid character. Echo, the boy whose frown “wears like a uniform” and whose scars speak of survival, emerges through the voice alone. Society calls boys like him scum, yet Matthew reveals Bolaji, a teenager carrying the weight of neglect and expectation. The spoken delivery makes the danger and vulnerability tangible.

The poem then turns to a girl dismissed by the world, labeled with harsh terms, yet beneath the judgment is a 17-year-old trying to survive and care for her siblings. Lines about men who pay for sex never being tender linger longer when spoken aloud. Matthew makes the audience feel how society has failed both of them, turning their experiences into sound and rhythm that cannot be ignored.

“Cancel Me” confronts the modern mob through the pace and repetition of the voice. The phrase about “wounded people click, click” becomes an “outcry,” as the sound carries the weight of digital rage. Matthew points out how social media has become a “weapon of mass destruction” and how the public often judges without listening. The performance makes the danger of online judgment immediate and urgent.

In “Opium,” the speaker expands the scope, turning to leaders, religion, and power. The imagery of bullet shells under streetlights and prophets profiting from fear is vivid when spoken, every line carrying the weight of lived experience. The rhythm, emphasis, and cadence make the critique of corruption and deception almost cinematic.

The final piece, Not Sexist, brings the EP to its most vulnerable point. Matthew critiques parts of modern feminism and questions what it has become, asking women to consider when they last measured themselves by their own worth. The spoken delivery allows the critique to feel like a direct conversation, not a lecture.

Then he turns to men, examining the silence and pressure they face. Lines about emotional suppression and the need to appear in control hit harder when spoken. Matthew exposes the ways boys are raised to hide vulnerability and calls for both genders to confront these pressures. The poem ends with the quiet truth that “we need a reality check,” urging reflection over blame.

The soundtracks in all the spoken-word poems carry the messages expressed. The sounds move in between emotions and words. These poems being recorded are conversations, where the music listens to the voice and speaks back to the heart for correction. The instrumental choices are sensitive companions that reflect the poet’s feelings to “guide” the listener. They weave themselves intimately into the verses.

All these five pieces form a spoken-word experience that refuses to shy away from discomfort. Matthew uses rhythm and cadence to make his work more than words; he makes it a lived encounter. “Everything in Between” succeeds because it steps into every fire and invites the listener to step in with it.