Logical

The sins of my ancestors become the sins of the now,
When my tongues honed where it could clash with a katana.
But my targets are the ones who pat me on the back,
Naturally the usual response to that is a stab in the back.

He opens up his chest and I’m straight on the defence,
What the fuck does he mean when he says that?
Is he trying to brush my pain aside to make a point?
He says “I mean it’s not like how you go through it.”
The fact he didn’t take a decade to proof read every sentence,
That can only be a slight against me, perfect and precise.
So how about I take my drink and show him 2 fingers,
The most logical course of action to that.

He scratches the record to a screeching halt,
“What the fuck’s the matter?” He intervenes.
I wanna tell him how’s he’s not seeing me,
But who on the earth is seeing me,
If me hasn’t been me for this long,
Are they even me, is me even me anymore?
“I dunno.” As I stall for for some amount of time.
He came to this war with a bouquet and I still grazed him.

That’s the catch 22; I’m not seeing him,
A few Thyroids short and I’m not seeing anyone.
I’m seeing words and phrases that I’m trying to recognise,
Clutching my bug-net looking for the bogeyman.
THERE! I know someone who talked to me like that,
A past abuser from a eon gone by.
You thought that’d one would slip by me?
“What have I done to be suspicious?” He asks.
What you’ve done? Well you’ve done nothing,
But everyone at one point done nothing,
Until they start to do something,
And out of nowhere they’ve done everything.

Burn a bridge on a hunch,
Carjack your heart out on a probably,
I’m so dependant on the kindness of others,
While still backed up against the wall.
When a scratch goes down like decapitation,
You can’t take any chances on that.
Treat my company like a rental,
One wrong move it’s revoked from you.
“How can I be expected to love someone
Whose hand is always circling the eject button?”
Like I dunno man, but what’s the alternative?
Cos I’m getting too old to nurse another wound,
When it’s week 2 chained to my bedroom,
Keeping my psyche together with PV glue,
As yet another chance to succeed is doomed.
Another degree flies on by, another career down the drain,
The hand outs will stop, and I’ll be marking my grave.

– Sebastian Noël (For Mental Health Awareness Week)

I’ve been seeing a lot of people on my feeds comming out as agender which is a concept I wasn’t aware off. Not being agender mind, but like coming out as agender? Like I dunno I’ve known I’m agender since I was like 14 tbh, but I thought it was like…. almost taking yourself out of the system of gender in general. Like there’s no ‘coming out’ cos you displace yourself in the system of ‘coming out’ at all. So how does one come out as something that is the very rejection of being anything genderwise?

I guess for people it isn’t a rejection of that system, as if not having a gender IS a gender in itself. I’m just a little cheesed I could’ve made a big deal of realising I was too and didn’t. FUCK I could’ve had a comming out party and everything.

Adventures Of The Friendzone

You may adore me, but I feel like going psycho
So do you mind if I just put you in the friendzone?
The comfort of romance and the thrill of affection has it perks
But sometimes a guy just wants to show someone the cheat sheet
Friends don’t care how I’m doing, Family doesn’t care how I’m doing
You probably don’t care how I’m doing, but I wanna play pretend
So in the friendzone you go, cos I want go psycho
I’m Sally, you’re the brick wall, just want tell you it all
You want get intimate, I want tell you that’s it all gone to shit
Into my DM’s you wanna sliiiide, I wanna joke about suicide
I’d love to love you, but I don’t get to choose when I go pyscho
So soz to say, but until your grave, you’re in the friendzone

Sebastian Noël

Good Attention

You taught me the value of good attention

It wasn’t long into a muggy Friday morning
That I could feel each individual cell of my makeup
Being analysed to their very atoms
With the same curiosity a infant gives it’s surroundings
Diagrams and graphs in your mind
As you burn holes into my sides
Like a figure in a collectors shelf
I surrender my life as a mere visual for a moment

It’s something I’ve needed for months now
Kisses and caresses with just a look
It engulfs the creases of my stomach
The stretches on my sides, the hairs on my back
You just say; “keep doing what your doing”
All you wanna do is give good attention
It pushes the blood in my veins
It places a good personality in the cockpit
It contradicts the paranoia
That gaze refutes a million doubts in one swoop

Declarations can be overwritten, promises can be broken
But there’s no refuting the value of good attention
And when the weight of observation becomes too heavy
You cradle your head upon my lap

Sebastian Noël

Paranoid Patty: So’ (Demo)

You represent an impossible world
You represent queerness unchallenged
You represent benefit from fulfilment
You represent a vacuum on my bedside

A smile and a stroke on the back
That’ll never come to fruition
But in the domain of the cognitive
Is that such a tragedy?
Cos in this universe for my eyes only
You never left my side
Cos in this universe confined to my room
You never left my side

One day
Sophie
You’ll be real
Yeah, one day soon…

I’ve not left the bed in 4 days
But I’m not alone
I’m talking to no reply
But I’m not paranoid
You wake me up at dawn
But you’re not trouble
They’re adamant you don’t exist
But I see more of you than I do of them

While my friends betray their attendance
With deafening silence
You suggest we get the Domino’s in
To salvage a miserable Monday
While my lovers back up their well-wishes
With complete absence
You were waking up next to me
Watching Saturday morning cartoons in bed

It breaks me when I act out of script
And my hand passes through your breast
The illusion comes crashing down
From where ever your projection originates
I’d surrender all my blood and flesh
To give you form in this world

If the Blue Fairy decides to empathize
Then the dimensional barriers could evaporate
Your arms would fill up my palms
As you fell from fiction
You’d speak to me on the fly
No preemptive, no choreography
What could I even say back to you?
The language hasn’t been established
To do the wash of emotions justice
But quote me on this: it’s only a matter of time

Yeah, one day
Sophie
You’re gonna be real
It’s just a matter of time…

–A ‘demo’ of the Paranoid Patty poetry set/book–

Sebastian Noël

So hey followers, just to say im sorry i’ve been AWOL but im working on my next set of poems: A concept set following a woman with BPD on all the fun shinanigins of that. But the plan for this set is to release all these poems at once hopfuly with a psyichal book accompanying it (despite not even publishing my first book yet lol) so thats why ive been silent sans these little drafts Im dropping to hype it up

I hope Paranoid Patty will be worth this wait!

Paranoid Patty: Jig Is Up (Draft)

The jig is up, the jacket’s off,
The sigh, cause and effect.
Ask me all you want, you know I’d never answer honestly.
Cos yes, maybe it was what you said that made me do it.
And if you see them, maybe it’s the only way to talk,
The only way you’ll listen without interrupting,
When I try improvising a verse together.
Cos I’ve never tried to speak about this before.

Something’s happening molecularly;
An absolute dissolution of my entire being.
People are closer then ever before,
But when they are, they don’t smile like before.
It used to give me a sense of purpose,
To give people the means to smile.
But people started to ask what I wanted too,
Now I’m at a loss for words.

Maybe what I want; you can’t give.
The fulfilment, the direction,
Something to put on my tombstone.
The support, the first response,
When the mind turns on itself.
The control, the peace,
As I learn to maintain myself.
It’s not fair to expect that from you.

He asked “then what can I give you?”
And it felt like a few seconds extended to hours.
I just nestled into his arm, as we lay on the settee,
Put my feet back in the blankets, as his cat lays on my lap.
Then it dawns on me the answer is: “Nothing.”
You’re just a spectator in the event called: Me.
You can’t be my hero, my mediator, you’re sort off; nothing.
Of course it doesn’t feel good to say that,
Plus I couldn’t even say no one else could be those things for me.
It really just… Depends

But for now, if you’ve a roof to cover me,
And there’s still a heart to occupy,
With a shit take away to fill our bellies
Maybe for now, that’s enough.

Sebastian Noël

Paranoid Patty: Decent

That’ll be £5.50 for the underground,
Just to come face to face with another educator,
As they deconstruct the many ways you fucked it this time.
Face sunk into your own scarf, revelling in your stench,
Clutching your Yabba-Fro-Chino, passing Euston.
Tastes like shit, makes your plasma pass at a snail’s rate,
Eons better than pushing trash down to avoid hunger.
Already feels like your insides are gonna give out.
Heart attack on the Hammersmith line, no hope there,
They’d sooner kick your corpse on the tracks to make it home.

The world around you is coming apart,
And that’s to say nothing of the world inside.
Millions of miles before anyone knows your name,
Even then it’s usually in infamy.
Ping! From your Facebook;
“Why can’t you come to this party you can’t afford?”
Ping! From your inbox;
“Why can’t you come home for xmas?
Fake a smile and share some crap food
With the very people who left the scars on your mind?”
She looks down, traces the cuts on her hands,
She wasn’t even sad when she made them last night.
She just wanted to get the same reaction from the outside,
As they’d give if they could see her insides.
The sigh from the bus driver, the looks from her classmates,
From being scared, broken and ruined.

She covers her mock exam results when she gets them.
She doesn’t wanna know if she’s fucked it all again.
She doesn’t wanna know if her momma were right.
She doesn’t wanna know if the voice in her head called it.
Little trip past the corner shop on her way home,
Maybe a little wine to shred time off this episode.
Gets to her room, collapsed in front of the screen.
She’s crying for help but she doesn’t know what she wants,
Cos she doesn’t believe when her friends say they miss her,
Cos she doesn’t believe it when her boy says he loves her.
What Sasquatch or deity is she looking for?
What they gotta say to make it all go away?
Her skin sags like it’s not connected to her body anymore,
Her psyche feels like 5 years out of sync.
Just reminds her she’s got no control of her body.
Anything she could be proud of is pouring from her fingers;
She can’t write any lines no more,
She can’t fuck to save her life no more,
And everytime she vocalises that, she makes someone cry.
So sit tight, mouth shut, as it all melts away.
Scratch your scalp as your hair’s coming out,
Readjust your eye as it’s falling from your sockets.
Your hearts beating extra drums out of sync,
Bed sheets ruined, as your life seeps out of your pores.
Finish the wine, try and lose consciousness for tonight,
Maybe it’ll be better tomorrow.

That’s what you said last night.

Sebastian Noël

Paranoid Patty: Prelude

She didn’t consider the soul inside the bones,
The only consistent as skin starts to shed.
Everything that mattered, don’t matter no more
She can barely muster a prank, let alone a trick.
It’s a 2,000 man funeral,
But she’s the only one crying.

Sebastian Noël