Selected Writings 2015 - Ongoing

I Guess This Is It

Obsessive poems of past loves line the walls of my bedroom

like a second skin,

echoes throughout my halls; flashbacks

feinting my body like hollow hugs.

One foot in front of the other, yet

somehow I keep ending up in my backyard,

slipping, almost

melting, under the moon.

There’s less of me than I remember.

Instantaneously I taste transparency,

my mouth holds no words, just something

that tastes like regrets, or maybe remorse.

Everything is numb again but I feel obliged,

to feel guilty so I’m forcing myself,

to feel that instead.

I’m telling myself that’s what I’m feeling

and eventually,

I’m telling my mother that too.

We’re sitting down in a room I’ve never seen,

not like this anyway, not this

bright, not this

close, a new version

a new vision.

I’m staying ‘true’ to myself

and promise myself,

to become who I used to be,

but I remember

I already buried them, at least three versions prior.

I’m stuck with this, or at least that’s what I’m telling myself

to make it easier.

Macabre Masturbation

 

Currently shameless, so clean it stings

I can recall the dirt, the grit and the shit that hurt

more than before

I presume we’ve met,

I extend my hand

He asks to borrow my fist, again

I said its his whenever he needs

I even leave it on his shelf on my way out and he slams the door behind me

 

Love is a four-letter word

Sometimes it’s a contract that you’re almost born in to

One I’d rather not sign again any time soon but I already promised my mother I’d repay the debts (with other debts)

I’m a mess, someone hire me. I can rock up on time; use the bathroom twice every hour. I’ll keep my hands clean and reduce my anxiety attacks to once every fortnight.

12 and a half years ago I was 12 and a half

he wouldn’t have thought of that though

In my sleep I said I love you

He said he doesn’t need my other fist.

Deserving Preservation  

learning to add rather than subtract  

learning to retreat. 
 

he kisses his own fingers to remind himself  

they’re there. 
 

two people spitting into each other’s mouths, 

we’ve been hit again. 
 

watching the bodies squirm, heaving,  

lifeless like the sound of nothing. 
 

animals don’t believe in funerals,  

red ring, middle finger.  
 

the stillness of thunder -  

like a childhood vision of a childhood vision, 

i’ve asked to be buried  

in a glass coffin, i’ve asked to be stuffed  

so i can greet my family. 

 

juene homme is how he greets me, 

i watch him  

in the reflection of the ceiling fan  

above 
 

as the television flickers  

his body moves  

closer, like a message  

he tells only me  

it’s safe. 

Imposter Syndrome

Two weeks later:

A new personality, a new me (hopefully)

hello I love you

kiss me on the mouth

he pays for my drink

a gin and tonic

with a slice of lime and a stroke of my arm.

A Glory hole but for holding hands

in the past I would have cried

I’m telling someone else’s story as my own

they laugh

ha ha ha (I’m in)

the smell of warmth

but there’s no room in the spa

I watch the bubbles fight their way to the top

I’m drinking champagne now

I missed my stop again and my mum won’t pick me up because I’m 25 years old in my dreams and my nonchalance is regarded as negligence

Lonely walks home feel like memories and the nostalgia warms my core.

Crybaby

 

A name, a title, a prize;

A crybaby who survives.

 

From day to night skies,

he noticed a rise in sighs.

 

They’ve mapped their fears on their thighs,

again, unwise

it explains their muffled cries.

 

They tell him they’ve been suffocated by spies,

their new lies, were

always a surprise.

 

He asks how many more tries,

until they finally meet their inevitable demise,

And awake to swarming flies.

Without (Rose Tinted Glasses)

clues in the form of  

unsaved numbers and   

fresh bruises on  

both knees  

 

i now drive with my right hand,  

with him in my left 

 

without offering you the same taste I’d bargained you with,  

I traded him for something familiar, 

similar. 

 

Amongst early morning smoke  

we haphazardly tip toed upstairs,  

in the shadows towards the inevitable. 

 

Our toes left marks on the dark blue tiles,  

like a trail of bread crumbs reminding us  

of our way home - 

if we decided to turn back. 

 

another queen without a crown,

 

he looked up at me from the floor of his shower

the smirk of a wolf 

before they devour

 

He licked his lips and the tables were turned

A role reversal

we’re upside-down 

 

Under clear, concise instructions  

his other heartbeat filled my throat  

and I could taste something that tasted  

like regret but i couldn’t tell  

if it was mine  

or his.  

 

i second guess my goodbyes and  

i claw at the strap of my beige linen bag  

pressed against my waist 

Cruising (Through Life)

the neediness leaks out of my pores and stains my old high school basketball shorts

the ones i wore on webcam that time

when I was a lot younger

his stare pierces me from the other side of the gym and I feel that tingle I haven't in longer than I can remember.

His bright pink booty shorts give me hope and I watch as he readjusts himself in the mirror with his two matching pink (5kg) dumbells.

My body movements change subconsciously and as I catch myself I flick my wrist so he knows what he's in for

I'm laughing but I don't think you're funny

4 beers in and you're touching my knee like you've touched it before 

like you've touched me before and like

you're ready to touch me again

a bad boyfriend is not a brag-worthy title

as my body shifted and changed your distance confirmed you'd noticed it too

I've read about metaphoric suffocation and like a light bulb moment I finally understood

I consider running but with my self diagnosed arthritis I'm aware my knees are weak and won't get me very far and although I have a license, I don't have my own getaway car and it seems odd asking to borrow yours.

In the shower I remember exactly how many rotations it takes to reach my ideal temperature

our ideal temperature 

that suited us both when we sat on the floor and let the droplets rain down on us disguising us, washing away our identities for just a moment as we sat their in complete silence, co existing.

Myth Mouth

Instant gratification takes too long

 

shouting into the void

they were coming to get me

but I am them too

 

a voice from hell said come a little closer, and I did

with their help, another notch in my belt

 

work out supplements work better

no come down

 

like a familiar sensation, another hug with an active pulse

I realize I’m sober and I slow down

 

I parked my bike against a white picket fence and remind myself

that high functioning depression was the goal

 

shooting for the stars

(the stars being neurotypicalism)

 

It starts at a catholic school

Emasculate conception

Concept: conception

 

Kill me, father pierce

Bury me on the hill in your name

 

I want all of what you’re selling

Ring the bell; I’m wearing a white dress

The only time it’s allowed.

 

I’m drowning in my mother’s tears,

I am my mother’s tears!

 

I’m gliding down the peak of her cheek and I’m sinking in to her dimpled grin

I’m smiling too

 

A slap on the wrist a day keeps the nightmares at bay.

 

 

Part, Penance

Consolidating in the shower again

Dissociating, my skin grows redder

I keep turning the taps but I don’t remember which way is which

The steam soothes my chest

 

Droplets massage my eyelids

The water is above my ankles

The bath matt is floating

 

My clothes in the corner of the bathroom become swans

Arching their necks into the shape of a heart

Sparkling white, they glimmer

I think they’re happy

 

I’m feeding them flakes of my skin

It’s peeling off so easily

Baked to perfection

At least someone is enjoying it

 

Someone calls my name

Like a song, my body dances

From the corner of my eye I see the clothes dive down the drain

Becoming the Opposite of Guilty

 

the ghost of boyfriends past,

haunting me 

 

in a figurative embrace;

 

when the wind blown from the fan of a new lover 

hits me in the same way 

his ceiling fan used to

 

making up for lost time

my hand’s around a new waist

 

going home with someone on a first date

feels like triumph

 

reclaiming, relearning

 

proud of the man I never actually became

 

Dad blames his hearing,

Mum blames my sensitivity

 

I’m their scapegoat,

I’m the buffer, 

the punching bag 

that holds the family together

 

I eat more when I can’t sleep

I sleep more when I can’t eat

 

three baby angel emojis

In response to a DM

 

From dick pics

To death threats,

He takes me on a guilt trip

 

He tells me I’m one of those arrogant faggots

the ones who don’t give older men the time of day

that he paved the way for my existence

when in reality all I’ve ever wanted was an older man

secure, stable - a protector

 

I guessed you’d call it Daddy issues,

but it’s probably Mummy issues too

 

anxious because i’m speedy 

speedy because i’m anxious 

 

on the way to work 

i drove past two men 

who ghosted me on grindr;

holding hands

 

at work i see two different men from grindr i didn’t respond to

they’re not together

they’re alone

and i’m alone too

 

sharing is caring

sharing myself now feels like caring for myself