Never Trust A Compliment

“Oh Seb, why do you have such low self-esteem?”
While a magnitude 7 transpires in my pocket,
As if to answer that very question.
A letter in the bandwidth arrives on my shores,
Meticulously designed to remind me:
I was born of flawed clay and to there I’ll return.
Any avenue not filled they’ll find there way;
Whatsapp, Insta or Kik. It’s all game.

Don’t tell me the lens focuses ‘Too much’ on the anti,
Cos every pleasantly is temporary.
All smiles turn into frowns, if given time.
Offers to hang out turn into reaching excuses.
She’ll let you know “Boy you’re so valid.”
She’ll say “You try so hard to illuminate those in your gaze.”
Two crumbs of Twix on her shoes later however:
I’ll epitomise a callous generation of dregs.

Danni holds my hand by the riverside,
When I accidentally get some water on her dress.
“I never asked to be with such a mental case.”
She advises me to get the 47 bus home.

Allie smiles over her mocha on our anniversary,
When I ordered a gingerbread latte when I meant hazelnut.
“You don’t know how to love anyone, and never will.”
I’m left alone with a cold drink I didn’t even want.

I’m staring Christine down the alter,
Her hand in mine, as we say our vows.
With a decade of hardships behind us,
With an extra year or two of love to call our own.
I look my bride longingly in the eyes,
And accidentally put the ring on her index finger.
“Everything they said about you is true, you’re such a cunt.”
SEB!? WHY DO YOU HAVE SUCH LOW SELF-ESTEEM!?

I can be the apple lodged in someone’s eye
And a thorn infesting their side by tomorrow.
The slander is what sticks,
While compliments are temporary,
Until you start to taste foul in their mouths
And we all know that nothing is succulent eternally.
So I believe what everlasts,
Not what only stays present on good behaviour.

Sebastian Noël

Obsess (W.I.P)

Gasping to fill the void in my lungs
Mimicking a fetus by the doors of the club
Old pastel hair walks on by and checks for a pulse
And a very special kind of cycle starts to whirl
It’s where I get a pretty young thing in sight
And she detonates the curiosity
Suddenly the prying eyes turn to blurs
I want her to Obsess over every square inch
To question the very way I walk
To notice every scar on my chin
She grasps my hair like leaves on a radish
She demands more nooks and crannies to investigate

But after you’ve peeked at the answers
At the back of a puzzle book, it becomes trash
Her attention wanes as the escape plan begins
A 4 week voyage to the bottom of the ocean
It’s where her aunt’s new flat is
She’s come to see her new proboscis worm
All to get me of her chest
And leave me scuttling on the floor
A blue bow’d lady checks to see if I’m alive
And the cycle starts again

Blue bow gets me down on my knees
Demands the anteating treatment
A one way ticket to get a glimpse of god
Through the medium of ASDA bed sheets
Once envisioned my thrills start to stagnate
I’m left crawling on cemented tiles
Like a leech without a belly to feed from
Holding back crimson waterfalls
With a mere forearm acting as the damn
Amber eyes hands me the dressing
Likens me to a NME cover model
And the cycle starts again