Monster

I just wanted this to go like a theme park film roll
Snapshots of red cheeks, red berry slush in hand, golden rays dropping down
But then I had to go try putting you on the throne
Treating you like you got my six, not like the number 66, heading up Highwoods
For a picnic and walk under the canopies, oh please caress me under the trees
Take me for a meal, have me like mac and cheese, in front of the bees
Oh yes that’s how it were meant to be, but I started to think you my destiny
Oh that didn’t go down very well you see

Like cramming a cylinder in a square pocket
It started going wrong immediately
What do you mean you don’t fit in someone else shoes?
You mean to say not anyone can slide in comfortably?
Especially when your more Buttercup then Blossom
And your a stranger in Ballamory, but a local in Gotham

If only it stops right there
The reactive squirm after your nostrils hit that curdled milk
But when you tend to an open wound with another round of booze
I suddenly start to feel like I’m sharing the room with a Dybbuk

1 year, 2 year, 5 years isn’t enough apparently
To stop suspecting I’m on a receiving end of a coup
The moment you stop acting like a mirror I get suspect
“You’ll never trust anyone” you cried, and love, you might be right

I’ve role-played this night a million times
But I always play impostor with my feminine side
I think it could result in my Christabell
With an image of a poor young thing stuck in hell
I thought it might garner me some sympathy
Maybe people would start listening to me
Instead their disgust triggers my mania
All thanks to this cursed genitalia

But I’m seeing that I don’t deserve it, to be fair
Now when I’m on the receiving end of a terrified stare
Hand clutched to my phone, finding anyway to not be here any longer
I dunno how I’m looking to you guys, but to her I’m a clear monster
I’ve treated standing my ground like dropping an atom bomb
When a simple enquiry would’ve gotten the job done

Now it’s a matter of time till your gone
Till you’ve found a laid back yokel in Beeston
And when it’s 2024 and I’m down the community hall
With my new flame, who can take care of me no matter the fall
I’ll be pining for the low stake weekend away
Wild nights in the hostel restroom, by the end of the day
And when we stumble in two hours late for the poetry due
What’s the bet I’ll start getting them to wear your old shoes?

Sebastian Noël

FP

You’re
sick of hearing about it
I’m sick of thinking about it
Like a prefix, a disclaimer
Painting a context over everything
Everything I say, think or feel
Getting nostalgic doesn’t even feel good no more

I just
remember the plan; buzzwords spiking my drink
Being treated like an asset, an elixir, a cure
Like your pleasure, isn’t my pain
Like your familiar, isn’t my nightmare
So when people politely suggest to me, like Eureka
As if they’ve clocked on why the raven’s like the writing desk
That I just forget them, take my mind off ‘em, quick snap
Jesus Christ, as I jump out of my chair, Einstein walks among us!
But common sense and logic doesn’t have a stake in this conundrum
People gotta think I’m nursing a cocktail as the sun goes down
Time travelling to 2010 with comforting sigh
As if it’s welcome, as if it’s not involuntary
As if it doesn’t intrude at the worst of times
Times when I should be basking in the wealth of the present
But it’s logical too me, like I left a part of me behind
I’m shivering, the draft’s going through a hole in my soul
It’s that estrangement feeling, like a kid yearning for its parents
It’s that logical, that ingrained, it’s an auto-pilot feeling
When I’m back in control of course I steer away
It’s why I fear the idle thoughts like the bogeyman
Cos do you think I’d feel any better if that void got filled?
I didn’t forget the toxic shit that used to be there
The way it’d twist my mind, it’d leave my feelings behind
The way it made me feel ugly, the way it turned me into a freak
Filled to the brim the prose they used to whisper in my ear
Like “I regret dating a spastic like you”, straight out of
Shakespeare

I know
you’re sick of hearing it
I know you’re sick of them coming back like a bad sequel
I’m sick of it, sicker than I’ve ever been
So please just set aside a little prayer for me about it
Cos I wanna stop thinking about it too
But I can’t escape my favourite of all time
Cos when the anniversary creek’s it ugly head
On the 29th of the year’s tail end
I start thinking about my favourite person
But thinking about ’em’s my least favourite thing

Sebastian Noël

Feeder

You take to the skin peeling of your innocent face
With a fragmented thumbs up and a fake smile
And when we’re sounding the alarms to check if your alive
You show us the back of your hand, how dare we care
But you see empathy isn’t a renewable source
You keep spendin’ and spendin’ and it’s gonna run dry
Your jaw drops to the floor when I turn back around
But honey I’m handing out diamonds, and your treating them like copper

You say this isn’t love
And you ain’t wrong
I’d say this wasn’t love at all

Cos your a feeder through and through
You feed any evil that comes knocking at your door
We offer our hands out to help your up
Only to be treated with bites and scowls
But what of the hands that only want to give you slap?
Well your on your hands and knees for them aren’t you dear?
So it’s clear where our time falls on your scale of worth
And I know I’m at least worth a lot more then that

You think your the only one suffering
Some of us aren’t content licking our wounds dry
And of course your running low on time to help with that
But watch the spare time pour out of your pockets
When the scorpions are low on their ego quota
That is till he stings you in the back again
Then it’s back to me, hands and knees for the hand out
But no more, I’m above tending to the leaches

Sebastian Noël

A part of the XXXXXXXXX series

Detachment Blues

I feel like I’ve been chewing on
The contents of a Sunday morning
Ever since I told you to go fuck yourself
And you complied with my demands

Just feels like the clouds hurdle around now
And the vibrance seeps from the canvas
The victim of all my favourite thoughts
My favourite page when going through the memories
Feels like I’m resurrecting from my grave
Simply when I populate your atmosphere
Every time you validate my appearance before you
When you specifically call me to the plate
It’s the closest I’ve come to a believer
When I see the image of god in your eyes

Your imprinted in my cellular make-up
But I’ve had to have you extracted
A chips appeared in the narrative facade
And I got to cut of the dead weight
Cos I’ve seen you gather that surge from another
And it breaks my heart to know your vision
Doesn’t interpret me in your life
The same way I do to you, in mine
Your welcome to add the beauty to their world
I welcome back the erosion of mine

But that doesn’t mean your positions been filled
Heck it doesn’t mean your even fired
I’m hoping for that grand parade of invasion
Where the walls collapse from you to me
For the sake of that grandiose apology
Then you’d reattach your veins to mine
And I can accept god in my life again

Sebastian Noël

A part of the XXXXXXXXX series