I arrive at the business transaction mostly on time
Arranged passively on a interchangeable messaging app
You make the radically mundane suggestion of a castle park romp
It’s too much to expect a curve ball at 23
The dice lands on a photography student
What else does steel caped boots and a Harrington produce?
Your hair’s a bath bomb shade of green and blonde
And your eyes reflect like monochrome
Undoubtedly captivating when equipped with a warm smile
We religiously obey the footpath
While I keep the hayfever at bay
“We’re victims of a London class based culling”
As she details how she came to be on this dirty great ‘ol hill
“I took this course because it’s my passion”
As op after op flew by, without a single shot being taken
Despite the 1,000 quid necklace you brought along
The sun transfixes her eyes, as she relays me with ambition
To make it back to London’s streets, or Brighton’s shores
Join the club hun, I’m sure we’ll all get there one day
You ponder about my candour
I’m not sure how to go about that
I’m a teacher in limbo
I’m a poet on standby
I’m the very definition of ‘pending’
I try to dress that up the best I can
But it’s clear I’m not getting anywhere
When that art’s not your art, when art’s not art
Then who cares?
“Can’t you play guitar” Bullet wound number 1
We take a very safe route round the park
To the benches, then to the hills
On our backs, then on our sides
Before you taste the toothpaste I used this morning
How many girls have I done this with?
How many boys have you done with too?
Did you wanna do that with me too?
Do I want you to? What do I want?
Do I want anything?
And if I do want, what’s that look like?
If I could peek into the future
Would it look anything like the past?
Would it look like me spewing white lies
Like I totally still listen to The Enemy!
Yeah…. Live and die and all that….
I take a fourth handful from the grass
As we start to veer around our guards
A troubled home, an absent dad
Apologetic prefacing from a Yelp ad
But then like the sound of a plane being shot down
She goes “Oh yeah my brother has autism too”
It’s time to dig that grave and cut your loses mate
Or maybe I’m waving the white flag to early
If Tumblr’s an indication, people are all about incest these days
But that’s an uphill climb regardless, and I’m out of heart
So to swerve by a handshake goodbye; I knock off early
Then take the scenic route home
Is this exposed heart bollocks for naught?
I like fun as much as the next guy
But the thought of letting someone in close proximity
Makes me a little sick to my stomach
But what kind of superhero am I expecting?
We’re all fucked in our own way
I just can’t stand the gamble anymore
Of ending up losing on beaming Saturday noons
Staring at the walls, flies populating my mouth
While I obsessively go over everything that went wrong
And rub ointment over my heart
All for the kind of empty people
That slap their cunts to Game Of Thrones
Who stroke their dicks to the Euro match
All without anything to say, nothing to show for it
Oh it’s not worth it anymore
If you told all your sweethearts to hit the road
And you hit 22 then your shit out of luck
Too aware to comply, too cynical to wonder
You’re the last kid picked for P.E
I don’t feel like dying again
I’m quite accustomed to feeling safe
So maybe I’ll abstain for another year
Not like anyone’s missing out
Sebastian Noël
Domestic Poetry 