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

They Don’t Give It A Name (V.2)

Improvising the last act on the Bakerloo Line,
Finding any excuse to waste the lingering hours.
It didn’t need to be a crescendo or a climax;
Just to be in proximity, slap a seal on it; that’ll do.
I know that’s the kind of lie you’d spin to polish small talk
But I reckon you really meant it.

I’m nearly on the end laps of my 20’s
But I’m still so fucking terrified.
Each second planned in my company,
The responsibility has me shaking in my boots.

I’m putting your hands on the trigger
And I’m trusting you not to pull,
Even though you should probably shoot.
Statistically you should shoot –
In fact it only benefits you to shoot –
But the curiosity comes in seeing whether or not you do.

And it’s not like I’m getting down on one knee,
If you think I’m gonna drop a ‘Love You’ now,
You’d better expect this song to end a 4/4 early.
But when we’re rationing the heat in our bones,
Inside a Turkish pop-up sandwich shop,
As the carousel casts a neon shine upon your profile:
It gives me something I ain’t had in a while,
It gives me a motive to crack a smile again

We’re taking refuge from the spacial oblivious and decidedly blind,
It’s as if we’re avoiding being in the shot.
While the taste of cigarettes on your breath lingers on mine:
My favourite cuisine to a freezing Sunday evening.
I’m gonna remember this night, no matter
When I’m dribbling in rocking chairs, I’ll remember it.

In the declaration age all this has gotta come off underwhelming,
But if only I could articulate what it meant.
Cos I felt so safe, warm, I felt cared for
Yeah, we’re beautiful, impossible, we’re invincible.
For you that’s gotta be just another weekender,
But if only I could tell you what that meant.
I ain’t gonna break out the engagement ring or mortgage,
But can I see you again? Can I see you again always?

Sebastian Noël

Meoph surcreh tona

The moon’s leaving bags in the night sky
As it descends at an alarming rate
While we walk to a haven, here on London’s backside
Sponsored by Prosecco and post sell-by date Rosé
Hosted by late naughties sketch comedy
I think it may of been another night at the take out for you
Picking me out like ordering a number 58 with extra sauce
But I don’t think you knew what you were doing that night
You were turning stone back into flesh
Returning excitement back to it’s rightful place

Cos I’ve been stuck in the pits for a year
It’s tough to dismiss the wounds as scratches
But a year’s a long time to collect dust and moss
Your limbs and joints bound by the narrative it creates

But trapped in the surgeons chair, you get used to the idea
Of being a spectator to love’s sweet rose garden
The little coffee dates, the negotiations in the park
The walls coming crashing down after glass 3
It’s a ritual of another design, another dimension
You can only smirk through a smile as your skin decays
The pebbles fall from your marble skin
If I was permitted for romance, it wasn’t for today

But what should arrive on an unassuming afternoon?
With grace powerful enough to make renaissance portraits blush
And the charm to talk a bullet back into it’s chamber
You could hear the Velcro damn near tear as she pulled me from the wall
With a smile that can alter paradigms
All while finding the time to subvert Medusa’s gaze
She brings me back to the 3rd Dimension
Reviving my pigments back from the earth
I never meant to make you entertain any doubt darling
It’s just elation’s a hard suit to get comfortable in again
I lack the talent to produce the stanza’s to let you know
How it felt to see you bide your time through my stillness
I was in there for sure and you came upon me eventually
I just hope the toffee lives up to the chocolate that preceded it

Sebastian Noël

Phsychy Crush

You don’t deny it do you?
You’ve seen the cream cooler constellation come into unison
They correlate into the sun’s 5th unison with Jupiter
Well, that’s the hogwash I’ll use as an excuse to declare
It’s time our orbits collided again

Strawberry fingers, button noses
Outside the local polka performance
Tootsie tickles, Coca bottle catapults
Leaving a culinary trail in our wake
Like the application of a mask
And the equip of a personal
We settle for a motivation
A colouring in outside of the script
The fun, The murk, The gull
I’ll make any excuse to see you again

– 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