I feel like I’ve been chewing on
The contents of a Sunday morning
Ever since I told you to go fuck yourself
And you complied with my demands
Just feels like the clouds hurdle around now
And the vibrance seeps from the canvas
The victim of all my favourite thoughts
My favourite page when going through the memories
Feels like I’m resurrecting from my grave
Simply when I populate your atmosphere
Every time you validate my appearance before you
When you specifically call me to the plate
It’s the closest I’ve come to a believer
When I see the image of god in your eyes
Your imprinted in my cellular make-up
But I’ve had to have you extracted
A chips appeared in the narrative facade
And I got to cut of the dead weight
Cos I’ve seen you gather that surge from another
And it breaks my heart to know your vision
Doesn’t interpret me in your life
The same way I do to you, in mine
Your welcome to add the beauty to their world
I welcome back the erosion of mine
But that doesn’t mean your positions been filled
Heck it doesn’t mean your even fired
I’m hoping for that grand parade of invasion
Where the walls collapse from you to me
For the sake of that grandiose apology
Then you’d reattach your veins to mine
And I can accept god in my life again
Sebastian Noël
A part of the XXXXXXXXX series
Domestic Poetry 