Their Narrative (II)

I bellow and exhausted sigh
While flicking through the saved pics on my Nikon
That’s all the emotion I can muster these days
A far cry from the drunken nights slumped in alleyway

I recognise backdrops from Colchester all the way up to York
With each year since 2010 getting their spotlight
I can see old flames, lost loves and deserted comrades
Clinging to my shoulders, with me busting out the fingerguns

A heartbreak comes as no surprise anymore
Just an inevitable outcome
Of any satellite coming into orbit
A part of my cycle, till gravity dictates otherwise

Still got pictures of us all on the SD card
From posing on the London Ferry, to coming home from Mayfair
Or V-Festival; back when good people where on the roll call
I go through them all, like my final years in a nursing home

Mental illness can be a drain on merriment
You can do everything by the book
But all it takes is disturbing the precarious balance
And it’s the scapegoating that sours the whole thing

I just want to take the easy way out
Put all the blame on this psyche
Beat my personality to a bloody pulp
Until it looks like something you could love

It felt easier to just put “Abusive” on my business card
With zero critique, and call it a day
“Yes dear, even your tendency to entertain ableist ideas,
That’s my fault too” I say with a heart halfer then half

But I can’t just do it like that anymore
Out of character for me: But I’m putting value in living
That’s right! So now putting it all on the line
Just to keep you pristine, don’t feel worth it anymore

I’m mourning a severed connection tonight baby!
Not of you and I, but more with society
Yeah I’m sure it’s easy to make out you’re an isolated case
But this is rewrite number 6 of the same narrative
My reviewers are getting sick of the reprise
Oh I know, imagine how it feel living it?

Cos people like to play make believe
With my good old friend: BPD
Like he’s crawled out of the Black Lodge
Pulling my arm, planting a 44. in hand
Oh but I don’t think it’s pointing at you, oh no no
And in fact, the fingerprints would reveal something interesting

BPD isn’t the aggressor, I’ll tell you all
BPD is amassing a collections of little red flags
From the school of “Why aren’t you like sane man?”
And not running for the hills the second that quote lands
BPD is fool me 10 times, still shame on me
Just for the oft chance it’s just a phase
But you don’t like hearing that? Okay I hear you
I remember Goffman’s rules of Stigma, I get you
So I’ll admit I did put that pistol in your hands
And I gave you 4/5 odds you’d take the shot
But darling…. You didn’t have to take aim
You def didn’t have to pull the trigger
And for sure you didn’t need to hit my vitals
Now I’m on the floor bleeding for my life: That’s Borderline

I feel like the time I spent with you all was wonderful
I’ll look back on these selfies like monuments
My first. Kiss. Time. Fling. Both Mono and Poly.
They’re nodes in my timeline, like slices of Nirvana
During extended periods of solitude
But… I also make sure to keep them as reminders
A row of little Purple Hearts on my shelf
Proof of surviving the decade irregardless
And a warning for the decade to come
Of what it looks like, when your seen like a free ride

Sebastian Noël

ALLRIGHT [Reading]

Original Poem:


Breakfast Bap Blues [Ver.2]

Your so close to dying
A molecule based misery seeps from the floor
On a not unexpected, but disappointing 5 past 10
Your dodging english again to escape the rainpour
While an egg yolk begins to weep for you
As you take another bite of your morning bap
It’s as miserable of a picture as it sounds
And all you got is the classic English morning for company

You don’t even know when it went wrong
But you know that look when it cuts you
Reserved for the most fiendish of miscreants
As he finds any excuse to pull his hand away from yours
An itch, checking the phone, pointing to a bug eating dogshit
He’s just millimetres separate from you, but you’re continents apart
He was even in rush to kiss you at the door
And there goes a boy, who didn’t want to be here in the first place

Was it something you said? Or did?
Did you miss the cue to deliver your line?
Fuck the line, I don’t think you ever got the script
Maybe he’s right, maybe you never do listen
How do you apologise, you know he’ll just ask why?
And if you turn up short of an answer
Then that’s as good as telling him to fuck off
No matter how many ways you try to solve the sum
Distract his melancholy with treats and trinkets
And cement the cracks with his fave’ band t-shirt
You always come up with bad remainders
And it slowly starts to dawn on you; that it’s futile

So you sink further into the diners throne
Your face covered by the azure curls
In your Totoro hoodie, with your copy of Wild World
As you try and stomach; there’s nothing you can do
To make the clouds part and the sun shine
So you might as well just waste your time…