Fruitless Decisions

Turns out the centre-left is why our one chance of hope is gone
I’m not sure what the fuck any of us were even supposed to do?
Now it’s 2020 and we’re stuck inside waiting to die
But it’s over 20 today, so what do you wanna do today honey?

Just a day of fruitless decisions
Lovey, dovey pointless decisions
Write your book and finish that project? Nah man
My legacy is the diary entries with you
Every cookie crunched, or desert experiment shared
Time gliding through us, nestled on the settee
Slowly arch over you as I kiss up your neck
Slowly arch over you in a more deprived way
Slump down from exhaustion for the night
The cat screaming for us to get up the next morning
Dragging my palms up and down your body
Gazing down at you as the sunrise assaults my back
This really is the only thing that ever mattered
All the fighting I ever done was for my right to feel this

Whether they find us in our cottage aged 70
Or left hand in hand in an NHS corridor tomorrow
I want everyone to know we’re all deserving of it
To be heard so eloquently, to be held so soft
We’ve the right to feel 10 feet tall
Or even to feel enveloped and small
To be gazed with both sincere adoration
And to be sexualised with untamed lust
To grasp their unfeasible beauty in your hands
And know they see you completely

Tricked by heterosexuals for 25 long years
That love was to fight for your agency
With a straight person your whole damn life
But if my time’s up I just want to let everyone know
You don’t gotta be on guard the entire time
I peaced out knowing, for a little while I was finally known

That’s gotta account for something.

Sebastian Noël

Constantly Memento Mori-in’

[ CW: Suicide Mention – Self harm Mention – Eugenics Mention – Ableist Slurs ]

I welcome you all to this
A pondering on your mortality?
A sudden shift of your if’s becoming when’s? Welcome.
A group of financed old men you’ll never meet being in on it? Welcome.
But even I’ve been rudimenting it a little more lately

Maybe it’s the world burning, maybe it’s the virus spreading
Could be the confirmation that progressive politics by large
Are destined to be gutted to shreds by queerphobic racists
But pals; I don’t think a passive attitude is gonna save the world

But what? You’re expecting something from me?
Trust no one’s been more impatient about it then I am
But this is what I’ve been rudimenting on lately
My fury and my body you see, they don’t see eye to eye
Been that way my whole life, my intentions are always good
But give it a few weeks and my soul dilutes from my cage
From advocating for autistic rights, to stacking B&M shelves
Give it a few weeks before steel starts colliding with flesh

Hours of hours researching liberation psychology
To the rallying cry of dismantling the fallacy of democracy
But it doesn’t amount to much in the end
It can’t be me, you see? It can’t be any of us.
Cos our fury, our pain and all the trauma accumulated in a austerity
You process it through our bodies and you don’t get anything
But you wouldn’t know that by listening to the pacified
Tapping their pencils, after a day wasted on the doorstop
They really think a paw with Fibromyalgia
Is gonna be the one to throw the first Molotov?
The British centre-left has become beyond parody
It’s supposed to be you, who converts our pain
Into the psychical spaces we can’t roam
Instead you’d rather sit and wait for the end of days

They’re gonna kill me and my autistic family with a DNR
Anyone with the power to stop it says: “We need to canvas harder”
Oh god no
Everybody’s gonna sit at home as our lungs collapse inside our bodies
Round of applause, for a lost cause
As they throw my corpse into the Argos converted into a morgue

They couldn’t do it through homelessness
They couldn’t do it through PIP
But through toothless deincentivising of key workers
They’re finally gonna get do it
Cash in the bounty on my head
Another non-essential life snuffed out without fanfare

You see I’ve rudimenting on my fucking mortality lately
How two hours standing on my feet triggers chronic pain
How a eight hour shift leaves me staggering towards the train tracks
How even community action doesn’t enable me
Nothing to do in the case living
But even less I can do about the case dying
How long till it gets brought home?
We call 999 I get carted by the ambulance
Then the NHS leaves my autistic ass in the corridor to die?
Cos a spastic life isn’t worth the change in your pocket
It’s not like I could’ve been a barista
I couldn’t of been a receptionist
I couldn’t work in a warehouse or a shop floor
And never ever from a lack of trying
But from an aggravating need to stay alive, yeah gets in the way
They made sure there wasn’t a use for any skills I got
So they can dismiss me like “No biggie”
I’ve not spoken to my friends in weeks, yeah it’ll be no biggie

Cos it’s ‘When’ not ‘If’
It always was
But I used to reckon I’d have a decade left at least
Now I’m questioning of I’ll make it for the rest the week
But catch me working on my thesis in case I survive 2020
Cos living is beyond parody

Yeah I’ve been rudimenting on my mortality
But maybe for once I should stop….

Sebastian Noël

Lied Too – Part 1 (The Cisgender Days)

[CW: Sexual Assault]

All it took was a two short months
Before Asmodeus starting working his magic
And the cracks in my skin started gasping
Struck by muscle memory of the ‘ol cisgender days
That’s a lot sooner then the guarantee assured me
My rosary beads eroding from keeping the influence back
I guess I’m just recalling when this used to a thriving place
Like a one man travelling botanical gardens 
Inviting, populated and never wanting for company
If I was feeling cheeky I’d even call it coveted

But at what cost? Only the pittance giving him everything
Hard to see it now, but that felt like such a small price to pay
Slip into someone else suit, and sign a 5 year acting contract
And you get to be “One of them” you get to feel loved, finally
A childhood of “He’ll do” and last picked in P.E
The begrudging admittance of companionship on the playground
Snide 4 out of 10 ratings at the house parties
It’s that recollection of obscurity is how he seals the deal
It’s all gonna come to an end before you know it
Just become another of Asmodeus’ number

I still remember the times when those benefits were reaped
Someone not of this world set me in their sights
They offered me a seat on the “Neurologically typical table”
An autistic like me? Really?
A lifetime of self doubt melts away in an elegant fashion
In one beautiful night, under 99p store candle lights
With the kind of woman who’d steal your dreams for decades
Just the notion of someone being glad that I’m accompanying
As the dawn kisses dusk goodbye at the door
She grips me tight as she slides under the sheets
She climbs onto me and lets me know “Baby I can’t wait anymore”
That’s enough to melt this cold, cold soul

Then like a car crash into euphoria she screams
“Call me worthless, call me scum, just like a real man would”
And suddenly I don’t wanna do it, I don’t wanna do this anymore
Then come the breakfast table, discussion sours in the bowl
“Cut the dialogue unless your ploughing me, like a real man would”
And suddenly I don’t wanna see her, I don’t wanna see her anymore

It dawns on me that masculinity has lied to me again
This wasn’t the climax of my adolescence Asmodeus implied
The moment that would grant me my humanity, my place in society
In fact you could argue what little humanity I accumulated over time
Has been stripped from me with cynical accuracy
But it’s far too late, the indoctrination has truly sunk in
I’m starting to believe the fallacy, like when intimacy makes it’s absence
It can only imply malice, spite and boredom, it’s like the canary
Once it’s died in the shaft, there’s nothing bring that love back to life
An absurd theory, but the things we fall for before hindsight…
There’s no excitement, no elation, at your continued insistence to be
Your presence in her bed’s like inviting a stone into a shoe
Why aren’t we doing it? Don’t you like me anymore?
And during the hysterics, you catch yourself in the mirror
And you’ve become the very thing that got you here at all
Now I don’t wanna do it, I never wanna do it anymore

There’s no longer any critique from the water to the wine
Chasing that forever fleeting feeling of being revered by someone
Instead going back to that deafening indifference
Maybe the secret to happiness lies with the next one
Asmodeus assures you it’s gonna be the next one
They’ll let you love yourself again
That feeling that curls your stomach when you look at yourself?
That way you hate yourself? It’ll end he promises
But that’s the kind of logic that finds you stuck in the talons
Of those also bound to Asmodeus contract
Except they got a little ace up their sleeve; They’re soulless
It’s a thirst, and it’s gonna be quenched regardless of your consent

Her eyes light up in the doorway, as the true face comes to light
“Oh take me in your arms and put your hands around my neck
And take it all from me like a real man would”
And now I don’t wanna do it, I don’t wanna do it anymore
Her aggression starts to rise from your reluctance
She starts to pin you down and won’t let go
“You’ll take it from me, weather you like it or not, like a real man would”
But I don’t wanna be one, no I don’t wanna be one anymore

Needless to say that wasn’t what I consented too
Not on the night, or when I first got into a man’s suit
I took a year of celibacy to heal my aching soul
As it turns out, a plot twist to no observer, It was never worth it
A brief sense of acceptance by the masses, that crumbled in sunlight
A feeling that I was loved by everyone, but still hated by the one that mattered
They’re the one I’m stuck from sunrise to night fall
It’s the one that screams at the moonlight, every night
Begging for a body that matches the insides
While Asmodeus pats me on the back
For spreading toxic masculinity among the masses
The real me was starving in solitary confinement

A day doesn’t pass when I’m so glad I broke them out
Neither a woman or a man, still someone I’m getting to understand
Solitary nights in and dialogue with the echoes off my walls
It feels so good to get to know them after all this time
And all it cost was the pittance of everything
All the hype and clout I had built, I let it slip through my fingers
My appearance now lowers the mood in the room by 2 octaves
I don’t think anyone’s been glad to see me in a long while
I think Asmodeus sees it as the ultimate exile
But truth be told, I needed the solitude
Maybe somewhere, out there, the appearance of the real me
Is just the thing someone’s been waiting for

Sebastian Noël