Desperate Needs

My personality is shambolic,
I could cry at nothing right now.
A desperate need for something
to capture my imagination,
I’m hopelessly doubting everything
and I’m stuck in an otherworldly sense
of constant distraction.
Make everything dreamy I say to myself.
Please tell me a story.

time to lash

get me a shit wig, high heels and a military jacket
let me show you what a non-issue your bulshit is
bring on the buckets of love you fuckers
time to lash you with what you’ve been missing out on
call me a sell out call me fake call me a faggot
you will never know me
i can be whoever you don’t want me to be
and i will strut passed as you lie in your dirt
blood boiling with the bass
shut up the fuck up and watch out

the second history

well aren’t i ridiculous
to act the way i do
against you

punching out in directions
breaking the broken
shifting in and through
hard rip into all of it

to do it my own way
pushing to make
dominance in reverse

slurping sounds
as it releases
reel to end
be kind rewind

wind it all up
catalogue it
placed in an archive


revisit to remember
why it was

tape 2
a fresh start
without your bullshit
a new time

Being Other

Feeling overwhelmingly other,
being one of the others.
where are all the other others?
Lost in every metropolis,
drowning in the majority,
the majority of the minority
that the majority
thinks us and wants us to be.
A spectrum obscured,
disguised by the loudest of us,
falling between cracks
in representation.
Lost without reference points,
falling out of pigeon holes,
too much for some,
too little for others.

Glass Space Disco

everyone is dancing
clear glass floor of colours
slow motion looking hot
wanted, loved and alive
euphoric palm strokes
looking me in the eye
caressing my face
getting our swagger on
in between lust
in the middle of love
i’ve never been seen
like you see me right now
lasers and smoke begin
we strut we sway
a glass space disco
in every colour we know
surrounded by stars
busting through clouds
oh my god
they’re playing my song

Man II

My power and anger are unlocked,
I must not shy away.

I am a man,
a British citizen,
a homosexual,
and everything else of me,
I am proud of these things.

I have shied away from masculinity
and femininity,
to be an entity unto myself,
my own variation,
and isolated from the world.

I have cried
but I am privileged.
It seems a bit late in the day
to accept myself fully
but I have.

I need to help
I need to prepare for war.

I am a Man.
I have a beard
and a cock.

I need my neglected aggression.

My heart
hopes and dies
over and over
in the ebb and flow
of this world.

I am on a roll right now,
but my depression will hit.
It will drag me down.

But I must go on,
break away from the heavy stones
on my corners,
bust through and fight,
prevail, learn
and grow.

Biology and mind are our clay,
we can mold and create,
nurture or change,
be ourselves
and be proud.

For I am a Man,
a British citizen,
a homosexual,
a son,
a brother,
a fiancé,
a worker,
and everything else of me.

You are whoever you are
and everything else of you.

I am Me,
other people are not,
we are all
and it takes all sorts
to make a world.