Constantly Memento Mori-in’

[ CW: Suicide Mention – Self harm Mention – Eugenics Mention – Ableist Slurs ]

I welcome you all to this
A pondering on your mortality?
A sudden shift of your if’s becoming when’s? Welcome.
A group of financed old men you’ll never meet being in on it? Welcome.
But even I’ve been rudimenting it a little more lately

Maybe it’s the world burning, maybe it’s the virus spreading
Could be the confirmation that progressive politics by large
Are destined to be gutted to shreds by queerphobic racists
But pals; I don’t think a passive attitude is gonna save the world

But what? You’re expecting something from me?
Trust no one’s been more impatient about it then I am
But this is what I’ve been rudimenting on lately
My fury and my body you see, they don’t see eye to eye
Been that way my whole life, my intentions are always good
But give it a few weeks and my soul dilutes from my cage
From advocating for autistic rights, to stacking B&M shelves
Give it a few weeks before steel starts colliding with flesh

Hours of hours researching liberation psychology
To the rallying cry of dismantling the fallacy of democracy
But it doesn’t amount to much in the end
It can’t be me, you see? It can’t be any of us.
Cos our fury, our pain and all the trauma accumulated in a austerity
You process it through our bodies and you don’t get anything
But you wouldn’t know that by listening to the pacified
Tapping their pencils, after a day wasted on the doorstop
They really think a paw with Fibromyalgia
Is gonna be the one to throw the first Molotov?
The British centre-left has become beyond parody
It’s supposed to be you, who converts our pain
Into the psychical spaces we can’t roam
Instead you’d rather sit and wait for the end of days

They’re gonna kill me and my autistic family with a DNR
Anyone with the power to stop it says: “We need to canvas harder”
Oh god no
Everybody’s gonna sit at home as our lungs collapse inside our bodies
Round of applause, for a lost cause
As they throw my corpse into the Argos converted into a morgue

They couldn’t do it through homelessness
They couldn’t do it through PIP
But through toothless deincentivising of key workers
They’re finally gonna get do it
Cash in the bounty on my head
Another non-essential life snuffed out without fanfare

You see I’ve rudimenting on my fucking mortality lately
How two hours standing on my feet triggers chronic pain
How a eight hour shift leaves me staggering towards the train tracks
How even community action doesn’t enable me
Nothing to do in the case living
But even less I can do about the case dying
How long till it gets brought home?
We call 999 I get carted by the ambulance
Then the NHS leaves my autistic ass in the corridor to die?
Cos a spastic life isn’t worth the change in your pocket
It’s not like I could’ve been a barista
I couldn’t of been a receptionist
I couldn’t work in a warehouse or a shop floor
And never ever from a lack of trying
But from an aggravating need to stay alive, yeah gets in the way
They made sure there wasn’t a use for any skills I got
So they can dismiss me like “No biggie”
I’ve not spoken to my friends in weeks, yeah it’ll be no biggie

Cos it’s ‘When’ not ‘If’
It always was
But I used to reckon I’d have a decade left at least
Now I’m questioning of I’ll make it for the rest the week
But catch me working on my thesis in case I survive 2020
Cos living is beyond parody

Yeah I’ve been rudimenting on my mortality
But maybe for once I should stop….

Sebastian Noël

I Still Got It

I still got it, got it, got it
Half a year on and I still got it
Still got that euphoria
Stemming from a more balanced wardrobe
From when the aesthetics keep people guessing
Even when catching the war gaze
Still got it, got it
Always had it, only now getting it
Finding the real me, only now just grabbing it
That hole in my soul, only now just filling it

But what I had to do to get it
My love, my mind, my status: All gone
Lovers saw the path, didn’t wanna walk
Say they love us, but couldn’t love me as one of us
Staring down the chambers, from every form of print
Reeling to see old friends, hesitate to lend to a hand
What else are they thinking? But never thought to say
Cos it wasn’t relevant, now it’s fucking relevant
Nothing to distract, from daily onslaught
Little fun with some company, notion long lost
All the smiles, turn into wretches of disgust
Liked better when they could squint, act like I was a man
Now they gotta see me, they don’t wanna know
My love, my mind, my status: All. Fucking. Gone

But there’s no way I’m gonna lose it
Not when I worked so hard to get it
It’s just a long process to wait
For everything in your life so far
To shrivel up, mould away and die
So summant better can take it’s place

Sebastian Noël

UK Trans Blues

[CW: Transphobia, suicide mention]

Wake up, butter toast, go shower
Check phone, read your notifications
Get reminded of the bounty on your trans ass
Swallow bile, shake off the fear
Knowing the demise of your people’s being planned
By bored white soccer mums after the book club meet
Trying to slide in behind the scenes
Unsheathe concern culture while backs are turned
*Vrrt Vrrt* Check notifications
Looks like they’ve poisoned political parties too

They wanna keep you battered and obedient
To keep you considering going back on commin’ out
Leaves me in front of the mirror shouting “Marco”
To no reply like you’ve been visited by Nosferatu
Gotta drive a steak in my ears and stop listening
Cos living wrong’ll lead to the noose
And they’ll turn a blind eye while you choke
“Oh that’s awful” they say from the VIP seats
Meanwhile they lobby behind the scenes
Praying to god to get the suicide rates higher

Trying to preach to the world about womanhood
They go “Mmmphf Mmmrr Mrrph”
Ah sorry, hard to understand what your saying
With all that Nazi cock in your mouth
Daddy slaps his trunk on your cheeks
Before handing over your pocket money
“Good girl” he sends you on your way
Suddenly propaganda appears in the ladies toilet
Suddenly the Kickstarers get funded
But I’m sure it’s just a coincidence

I’d love to dismiss ya without a seconds notice
The last kicks of life of a hate group on it’s way out
Occupy the same space in the history books
As the British nationalists and psychos
But this shit’s contagious, inspires insipid minds
Like those looking to clean the gene pool
Down at the local swimming pool
Two women blocking a 6 year old from changing rooms
All cos they can’t stop thinking about little kids fucking
But instead of being put on a register
They get put on a slot on daytime TV
Jammie Dodges and a cup of tea in the green room
Schofeild checks in to see if you need a refill
First class treatment for the type that’d put a bullet in a kid’s skull
Bet they’d spread their legs and piss on the corpse while they’re at it

Might I suggest your feminism stinks?
When you fight to keep a patriarchy intact
As you hold the door open for all your friends:
Eugenics Nazis and anti-abortion evangelicals
As they try and keep the men superior
Keep ‘em an Aryan squeaky clean
Trying to keep women inferior
Defined solely by their oppression
What for? Cos you know once the binaries broken
That you’ve dedicated your entire life to a fight
The white woman’s fight, losing the spotlight
That you’ve defined your entire identity
Based solely on the hole you piss out of
What’s a few trans lives to keep the delusion alive?
That’s why you let him slap your jaw with his bellend
Maybe Parker and Davies can join in a double team?
They do the boober and balls, while you take the rimjob
Anything to keep the worst men happy and in charge

Happy #NationalPoetryDay
I’ve snapped

Sebastian Noël

Even during the times you can’t tell
When stimming looks like a quirk
When spacing out resembles eye contact
When Echolalia becomes so refined
It’s indistinguishable from dialogue
And the end of the day: Nothing’s changed

Sebastian Noël

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

I Don’t (Self) Care

Everytime I have the gall to feel dissatisfaction
At the cataclysmic pass rate I’ve achieved
That familiar little advice pops into my inbox
The one that implies little confidence is elixir
That unlocks all your widest dreams and reels them in
And makes all forms of loneliness redundant
Of course there’s a little summant in that
But I’ve been stargazing over the past few nights, and I wonder…

Is it so bad that It gets a little exhausting at times?
I know, lift your head high and all that
Take it from me: I’ve mastered the art
Of a love so selfish; Narcissus would blush
But it’s still a blow to your entire life
When your baby grimaces at your whole being

Cos it’s not the isolation that stings
That’s a wound well and truly self-inflicted
I’m not broken up about breaking up either
It’s the idea I’ve gone diving with the sharks again
And for the all the gashes and cuts, I’ve come up cheap
First Gold, then pounds and now merely pennies

It’s that feeling that years of love won’t protect you
From your special one treating you like chewing gum
Just something to be spat out, when the flavours unfamiliar
They’ll listen to enough whispers in the grapevine
Start to see your low maintenance in incredible highs
Start to tickle your guilt: For the unforgivable sin of being

No matter how intense our love had been
No matter the years of memories and affection we’ve built
It can all come undone in a matter of minutes
Cos my autisticness starts to become noticeable
Cos after a bad day, my disorders are too intense
“Why can’t you perform these ultimately inconsequential
Social acts exactly the same as everyone else?”
That’s an easy one: Cos no one’s cared before you honey

That’s the part that really starts to sting
Where a soap opera really turns into a tragedy
You can make yourself better if you’re an arsehole
You can spruce yourself up if you’ve gotten in a rut
But how does one feasibly address a review like that?
Time and time again romance only serves to prove
You’re only good for a temporary pit stop
A source of thrill and spills, before it’s back to work
Cos no one like you is forever

So my god, how I got self love in abundance
I got time for a staring contest with my reflection
But the fact I gotta reserve so much love from myself
Cos there’s no chance I’m getting any from my lovers
I daydream of the day that love comes with no drama
With someone who doesn’t wince at my neurology

Is it really an exercise in the art of surrender
To admit it leaves you tired every now and then?
Leaves you feeling an extra stone or two?
And after the fact, the idea of swimming for the social climate
Just to find another lover who leaves with a gag
After their vision starts to focus on who you really are?
Oh it just leaves me feeling a little tired is all
Makes me wanna take the summer off
And catch up on all the sleep I’ve missed out on
But of course that just delays the issue
So tell me how hard do I have to love myself?
Until someone sees that summant in me that I see
And how many people do I have to let down before I get there?

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

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