Hateful Sonatta

You are the honey in my cardiac arrest
You are the Taffy in my asphyxiation
You are the sugar in my hypothermia
You are the chocolate in my haemorrhaging
Each drop that lands on my fingers
Sends me each shuffle closer to expiration
Each fragment you rip of me
Gathers dust on a pile in the basement
You are the maggots in my Granny Smith
You are the mildew in my bathroom suite
You are the cancer in my major graduate
You are the salmonella in my bake sale
Each trace of poison I carry in me
Get’s charitably shared throughout my community
Each glimmer of light I spy inside you
Turns into a siren light by the cliff-side
Yet each chance I get to side step you
I choose to play ignorant
What else is there to do on a Sunday afternoon
After staring bug eye’d at the window, ogling buffoons

– Lnc0

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, HOLY. SHIT. That was one hell of a hiatus, I can only apologize for the gap in content, i’ve been without my own internet for like the past 6 months, getting kicked out, jobs here and there, getting a new place, ect. ect.

But fret not, every things still and i’m once again unemployed so naturally updates can only presume on a hopefully; daily basis. Being devoid of like a personal outlet to the internet in my own time and company is wow and weird, too suddenly have the access and time, feels like a preforming suddenly getting the stage beneath their feet again, it’s a bizarre feeling ladies and gents

– Lnc0

Coast Crush

Cat’s eyes, a bow, emerald earnings and a rabbit tooth necklace
A black dice bracelet, a Minnie Mouse pin,
A goats skull tattoo, and a pitch black dose of Manic Panic
Just some of the tools you use to fish-hook my attention in the cafeteria
As the light ricochets from your jade skull ring
And preforms a calypso radiance, through the rabble and catches my eyes

2 set’s, a drama class and a lack of knowledge of Manson’s discography
The only things that separated us from beyond the nod in the hallway
The wit of the tongue spies a cobblestone path through mutual friends
And drunkenly made brothers, that was laid out before me
But if I ever got to your door how could I captivate you?
A lexicon of lullabies and artistry vs. a note left on the fridge

But I can’t keep my mind out of the picture show
A 24 hour double feature of maybe’s and possibles
Of spending 3.50 on a return to the coast
Cross-legged in your room in our Sunday Best
Sing-songing along to Nicole Dollganger
Under the porcelain surveillance of your doll collection
And your lemon and lime bearing predecessor
Gulping down the sour taste of the looming Pythagoras homework

You could send that weary neck off to lunch for a while
Put my shoulder blades to the test outside the tourist trap
Comparing toy capsule trinkets and penguin bar one liners
Turning a blind eye and letting the weekend roll away
Maybe I could ignite the Stella bottle and make you a fireworks show
Ignoring the niggling boundaries of reality
Maybe we could take the next coach out of town
Ignoring the fact this is all still a day dream
I never left the screening, still stuck to the chewing gum in my seat
No amount of accidental bumps between lessons can turn this into a documentary

A documentary that would end with a stroll from the Cod-boy And Son’s
After spending my mum’s bus money on rounds of Soul Blade
And onslaught of red hue revealing the lizard contacts in your eyes
As we pick up the pace, your way to outrun the curfew
Spend the rest of the night sing-a-longing to Nicole Dollganger
“Yeah my baby has a baby, but it’s not me”

A peanut butter sandwich and Yazoo milkshake later I get out my seat
Slogg my arse empty handed to get grilled in double science
We pass glances at the exit, as you head to double drama
Swallow another day where we stay as we are: Strangers

– Lnc0

International Women’s Day. (Late)

I wish the women of the Congo

or Afghanistan or China or South Africa

didn’t need feminism and could stand

up on a pedestal with you because

you happened to win the geographical lotto.

Dismissing a whole way of thinking,

that could make lives better, isn’t

so easy when you’re living in the rape

capital of the world, being forced to

marry a stranger or being denied

sexual pleasure through mutilation.

If you put on your blinders, feminism

might seem like a relic of the suffragettes

which isn’t needed in your individual

experience. It’s nice you can walk

to Starbucks, spend your disposable

income on empty calories and feel

safe. Then you can go home to your

£400 laptop and even though you

have a more global view than anyone

else in history, you will still tweet about how

feminism is evil as if you’re

more important than other women.

Even if we shrunk it back down to our small island,

equality is still a delusion; these problems

are on our doorstep and, sure, if you put

your fingers in your ears then you can

block out the cries for help from the

four women next to you who have experienced

sexual violence and listen to how

the pay gap is a myth as if that’s the

most pressing issue. You can laugh

at feminists, ride your high horse

above them all the way to the ballot

box, trampling those girls whose families

are holding them back from democracy

because they happened to be born with

breasts. You can tip-ex the 19th of

November out of the calendar and cry

every year about how there’s no day

set aside for men instead of educating

yourself and working to promote male

issues but that might be too much like

activism and you don’t want to be

confused for someone who cares too

much.

Or you can accept that power is not

absolute, suffering is not exclusive

to you and feminism is not a

global view. You drew a lucky hand

in the social poker game

and instead of playing your cards

to your chest you can share

them round so every woman

get’s to draw for herself. You

got to decide you didn’t need

feminism which is only possible

because of the work of those

women you seem to disregard.

You don’t have to call yourself

a feminist, because it’s all about choice.

but

If we all worked together, women

and men, on this one day instead

of turning our nose up at preconceived

notions then maybe, one day,

every woman can say: 

“I don’t need feminism too.”

– Francesniff

Lil effeminate one

In the crux of a new addiction across the nation
And they’re indulging in full
It’s the deconstruction of an Identity to an algorithm
“Your giving strain to that uniform with your form”
“That jacket gives me pause with your clashing chromosomes”
Well here’s something to choke on with your pies and Carlsberg;

Maybe I just don’t care

If it’s too feminine then I’ve repulsed the right kind
Obsessive and convulsive with patriotic hate
If it’s too effeminate then I’m repugnant in all the right ways
Because spouting verses and hymns and comparing dicks

Wow, that sounds incredibly straight

And your saying it’s gross, nowhere near gruff like a bloke oughta’
That’s funny cos I don’t recall your companion complaining
When she’s collecting wood from the bed under her nails
And lamenting how “The boy is nothing compared to the man”

– Lnc0