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Love Song #562

It says a lot about the weight I’ve had to carry
That I’ve only just had the time to idle long enough to remember
It’s been a whole month since we last were a part of each others lives
I’m not surprised to find I’ve been left on read this whole time since then
It’s our insignia to leave something like this so open ended
I guess you saw this like a pit stop less a reunion
Two satellites converging on their trajectory for a weekend
Before going their separate ways until the next time fate gravitates them
I’m not gonna act like I’m shocked by it at all
But I’m not gonna act like it didn’t sting a little bit either

To think of the sincerity of what you told me that night
With the kind of grin that comes from exploring a new life in your palms
But with the familiarity of slipping back onto an old coat
To think your happy to just walk away from all that
Cos for you it was just another night
Thinking about it gets me misty eyed if I’m being honest with you

But I am a satellite first and foremost
And my destiny doesn’t lie with waiting on your trail
Cos when I returned to my soil it was instantaneous
The cries of my brothers, sisters and siblings
The ones who share all the corners of my make-up
Were all I could hear even behind my headphones
I didn’t even get a chance to take off my boots
But already I got an obligation to my people

Cos they’re trying to survive under the crosshairs of society
Each and every star in my city struggling to burn brightly
Anyway I can help guide their way, that’s the reason I’m still on this rock
To share this pain and bring them all with me as I raise higher
Cos if I’m doomed to wait for heaven on earth
Then I reckon this isn’t a bad use of my precious time

Still, I think about how you won’t join me and my breathing gets heavier
The callous ways of the cisgendered will be a mystery to me I suppose
But I’m grateful I got to lie with you for one more night again
It gave me a reminder of what love is supposed to look like:

The ease of it, the flowing dialogue, the little moments of contact
An DIY chicken sandwich lunch, letting the time get away from us
The passionate rants 3 glasses of Preseco in
Pound store Christmas lights illuminating the room
As you enthusiastically get reacquainted with the nuances of my body
Only to get flustered at the puzzle of my belt buckle
No vague mysteries or foggy clues: You just want me.
And that’s the most wanted I’ve ever felt in a decade my friend

So now I’m back in my local with the next romance in the queue
When he tries to sell me a tertiary association
As a romance of the same calibre
I’ll remember our night during January 2019
And I’ll see past the contexts and the politics
And remember love doesn’t have to feel this empty

Reintroductions Are In Order

[CW: Gender & Body Dysphoria mentions]

Another product of content indoctrination
A malicious movement disguised as empowerment
But accepting who you are only gets you so far
When it’s a far cry from who you need to be
Oh my man, you didn’t treat me so good
But that’s nothing compared to how you treated yourself

Every time you catch your reflection unawares
In the puddle, shop windows, rear view mirrors
A cold sigh, an empty nod
I don’t even greet my greatest enemies like that
But you swear down there’s nothing behind it
As long as it lets you ignore the savagery of time
As it enunciates your feminine figure as the years march on
Cos content culture doesn’t allow for that kind of discontent

But alas, a lifetime spent with womanhood
And all it’s ever done, was do you dirty
It clipped your wings with a premature time limit
On behalf of maternal obligations and a biological clock
It’s always ticking away in the back of your skull
Putting a damper on your travelling plans
Just leaves you with seething jealousy
For those on the other side of the binary
A father at 55? Not sus in the slightest
A freedom you’ll never know, having lost the biology lottery

But alas, a lifetime spent with womanhood
And all it’s ever done, was do you dirty
Stuck with aesthetics disconnected from your soul
Deafened with compliments, so you never thought to check
If your most lauded traits ever brought you joy
Your curved hips, those slender legs
Them gargantuan eyes and stacked behind
Calls of envy from your peers distracts for a spell
But you notice it starts to make your stomach churn
It never fit, it didn’t work, it doesn’t make sense
You get you energy from Mars, not Venus
The future is dreadful, sends you pining for pre-pubescent times
If only you knew then what you do know
The maybe you could’ve put a stop to this…

But alas, a lifetime spent with womanhood
And all it’s ever done, was do you dirty
In hindsight, it had to be why you reacted with venom
As I was on my way out of the binary
The programming didn’t want to accept it viable
All very well as a hypothetical for someone else
But to see it staring at you from a lover
Just makes you remember how you’re 30 years too late
But it’s never too late, there’s no expiry date
To drop the act and live a life that’s true
50 years of beautiful honesty, vs. all 90 years in bullshit?
Oh it’s never too late to embrace the god of war’s power
In fact I pray the next time we cross paths
In the bowels of Dalston, or prematurely in Victoria
You’ll have started your HRT
And reintroductions are in order

Sebastian Noël

Written at the request of S

Can’t Switch It Off

Oh I can’t switch it off no more
Logged off but I can’t switch it off
Hands over my ears but I can’t switch it off
No matter where I am I can’t switch it off anymore

How I supposed to switch it off now?
When every atom belong to every form of life
Is poised to guarantee my demise
They wanna see my gasping for my life
It sleeps in every god damn person alive
So why on the fuck would I ever switch it off?

I’m supposed to just switch it off?
Repress it all and happily play patty cake?
With my fellow man, when all the evidence
Points to that they can’t be reasoned with
Anecdotal, Historical, Psychological take your pick
It all shows the hands get thrown with a guarantee
The moment naïveté infects your common sense
And you get the feeling you can switch it off

How the fuck am I supposed to switch it off?
Logged off but how am I meant to switch it off?
Hands over my eyes but I can’t just switch it off!
No one like me made this far by switching it off

Behind every smile hides a killer, so hell no am I switching it off
Just so they can slug behind me under the guise of tolerance
And they decide at the drop to switch it off permanently
So never switch that shit off, take it from me
Don’t trust any fuck under any circumstances
Less you wanna add to another statistic
That spreads the melancholy to a wider range
You keep that shit switch ON. Till your days stop.

Sebastian Noël

HypoFantasy

Oh my beautiful hypothetical fantasy
You do the unthinkable to me
You check in on me when I’m feeling blue
A fucking fantasy in 2018

I think of my beautiful hypothetical
They plan a fun little day out for me
On the anniversary of my mother’s dip into the Nether
Sounds so reasonable, but it’s still a fantasy in 2018

The idea that we can defeat our own apathy
Just feels like a pipe dream, never to be true
You feel you give so much, then you realise
You’re a hypocrite, cos you’ve given nothing too

Oh my sweet hypothetical, we’re too far gone
Too combat callousness and ascend
To bring out our best version, the final edition
And become high beings, amongst mortal men

Instead I’m tied to the hyper reality
Where compasion is dead, and we’re stuck in the muck
We’re lucky to coexist in one piece
Just moving, gassing and then sometimes fuck

Oh my beautiful hypothetical fantasy
You’re all the things, we really oughta be
You don’t care for clout, gender, sex, bodies or minds
That’s how I know you’re of a kind, I won’t live to see
Such an empathetic soul born of this society?
I can safely say it’s never gonna be…

Sebastian Noël

Sums Eurgh ‘un

Expelling the monstrosity from my ecology
Like a Chimera shedding traits enforced upon it
To think: perception under complete control
Bound, chained, an identity that’s yours to command

Give a pass on the tyrannical father figure thing
Give a pass on the bottom you feel entitled too
For those who focus and don’t leave it at a guess
And can see the kind of person I really am
There’s a spot in the greatest summer wasted just for you
Just to escape isolation and take it all

Eyes that ignore what they perceive
And tune into reality
That’s the source of my dream energy
Where abandoning my encapsulation
Doesn’t leave me with exasperation
A dream that’s deceptively gargantuan

Sebastian Noël

Locked In

I’m feeling the exile once again
But it somehow stings a little less this time
Cos the more I try to integrate into it
The more I’m left feeling locked outside the library
Is it worst to be exiled from the 2 point 5 children life,
In a thinly veiled attempt to curb divergent mind numbers?
Or is it perhaps worse to the be locked in
In a social model curated without your people’s input?

Can’t help but wonder when comparing
The epilogues of those recently let in the door
Covering every pour and hole
She’s suffocating from the droll
Of spectre’s hanging down her neck in idle times
Every breath, word and call, twisted and poked
Reminded of the needlessly gendered social hierarchy
Calculated, purposeful, negging call of the crows
An ecosystem made invincible, impenetrable
Perhaps it is worse to be locked in….

Worse to be locked with their grip on your arms
Forcing you to choke the life out of your love
Cos that’s the mark of a Mars in charge
Even worse when you look down
And you see who’s holding your arms, orchestrating the choke
“It’s what the Mars kind should do” she says
Every breath, word and call, twisted and poked
Reminded of the needlessly gendered social hierarchy
Perhaps it is worse to be locked in
Where your identity is out of your control

Sebastian Noël

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

Their Narrative (I)

(CW: Ableist Language/Slurs)

The disclosure’s taken a turn for the worst
People don’t see a declaration they see a curse
Or worse they lick their lips and see a chance
To express their neurosis guilt free at last!

Just imagine, accountability out the fucking window
You can let your empathy run at an all time low
If you feel anything, it takes sole priority
Cos your irrational supersedes any solidarity

And if they start to challenge that? Well it’s easy enough!
Just say they’re on a mad one; the stupid spasticated borderline cunt
And what if they catch wise and start to call you out on it?
Just call it abuse to your faux-victim mates on the LovedOnes Reddit

They can suppress it all they want, but it’ll never be enough
Not when you’re eyeing a free ride with your affinity bluff
With your coverted support peaking at a sorry looking glance
I can hear you now: “Ah the perks of retarded romance”

Sebastian Noël

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

Not U

Don’t call me that, call me that, call me that, call me that
I’m nothing like that
More evident when you insist I am
Evidence exclusive from your insistence
“You’re one of us, expect your this
And this, and this, and this, and this…”
Every stipulation so you don’t gotta say I am
Cos if I am then you are too and anything but that

But fine I never felt like you at all
I never felt it at all
Ever since 14 staring into space
Fantasising body swapping with another kind
The things I’d do, the things I’d say
I could be loved, man it’d be cool
But no animosity, cos I was always happy to come back
If only I could on the fly, if only it was real

But I had to be one, I had to be like them
Hate like them, abuse like them
Take like them, them like them
Who them? Either one: They them
Cos them only care about what they think is there
So if you listen with your eyes
And never see with your ears
Then. Shut. The. Fuck. Up.

Sebastian Noël