Lied Too – Part 3 (No Pleasure)

Just passing the 26 mark not even a month ago
And I’m still finding tendrils in my jacket pockets
Once belonging to a plot so devious
Belonging to that despicable demon
Baiting us with nostalgia and elation
To make us return to life we abandoned

Asmodeus truly a world class con man
Got me believing I derive pleasure
From a process that’s got me reeling
Coming home with new scars, asking when’s next time
And these ain’t scars of love, they dictate damage
Not to pigments, but to the soul

Been tricked into thinking I was hungry
Getting fed just brings the bile to the surface
Maybe I don’t admit but I think I time travel
Like to pretend our first time is our hundredth time
Roleplay that I never lost 3 years of loving
In a hurry to speed to that level of trusting
But was it ever about feeling good? Gotta wonder
Does it ever feel good when it’d stir nothing in them
To learn you’ve sped to the grave the next day
Starting to question if it ever felt good
Well I spose once upon a time, back when it was a product
Of surrendering your entire life force in your love
Cos they earned it, with good care of your soul
You could end up in the centre of hell one day
And you know they’d be striking a deal with Beezlebub
To get your ass back in the land of the living
Only then did it feel good, but it don’t feel good no more

Getting sick of exposing my pulse to the kind of villains
Who’d treat me like an afterthought
Desecrate my temple to chase a resource
But I’m no better, I was a loyal servant of Asmodeus
All performative, hoping I could make you see stars
Make your walls pulsate as you elevate
Crossing my fingers for a 5 star review
Getting a leg in the hetronormative game
They about ready to count an autistic youth out
Doomed to fade into the bottom of the social status
Only to be given a lifeline by sexuality
But how long did I think it’d last?
No way you’ll earn respect from anyone
If you don’t respect yourself enough, to stop lying to yourself
You’re no man, or woman and that’s a new meta
Where these talents don’t lead to anything
So you destroy yourself on the frontlines in vain
Just to top up your trauma

Like going cold turkey, I’d go peculiar without it
Paranoid it was a sign love was running out
It’s absence is evidence that your love was getting sour
That she saw you stale, attractiveness going repugnant
But that just proves, like I say, it got performative
A must, no longer a want, desperation over passion
Kicking myself it took too long to recognise devotion
It’s the late nights talking through your suffering
It’s the understanding that they keep you in their thoughts
That stress when your feeling down and out
That little effort to brighten your day
That unannounced expression on your darkest days
You didn’t have to remind them it was an anniversary
Of your momma, god bless her, leaving this world
They just remembered and had the take out ready
Candle lit picnic, over co-op on the PS2

A exact copy of the energy you’ve always been willing to give
Maybe it’s time to start asking for it back?
And after time, when you let them into your life
When they’re a consideration in your future plans
Maybe it’ll start to feel good again
Maybe it’s time to make people earn it again

Sebastian Noël

Lied Too – Part 1 (The Cisgender Days)

[CW: Sexual Assault]

All it took was a two short months
Before Asmodeus starting working his magic
And the cracks in my skin started gasping
Struck by muscle memory of the ‘ol cisgender days
That’s a lot sooner then the guarantee assured me
My rosary beads eroding from keeping the influence back
I guess I’m just recalling when this used to a thriving place
Like a one man travelling botanical gardens 
Inviting, populated and never wanting for company
If I was feeling cheeky I’d even call it coveted

But at what cost? Only the pittance giving him everything
Hard to see it now, but that felt like such a small price to pay
Slip into someone else suit, and sign a 5 year acting contract
And you get to be “One of them” you get to feel loved, finally
A childhood of “He’ll do” and last picked in P.E
The begrudging admittance of companionship on the playground
Snide 4 out of 10 ratings at the house parties
It’s that recollection of obscurity is how he seals the deal
It’s all gonna come to an end before you know it
Just become another of Asmodeus’ number

I still remember the times when those benefits were reaped
Someone not of this world set me in their sights
They offered me a seat on the “Neurologically typical table”
An autistic like me? Really?
A lifetime of self doubt melts away in an elegant fashion
In one beautiful night, under 99p store candle lights
With the kind of woman who’d steal your dreams for decades
Just the notion of someone being glad that I’m accompanying
As the dawn kisses dusk goodbye at the door
She grips me tight as she slides under the sheets
She climbs onto me and lets me know “Baby I can’t wait anymore”
That’s enough to melt this cold, cold soul

Then like a car crash into euphoria she screams
“Call me worthless, call me scum, just like a real man would”
And suddenly I don’t wanna do it, I don’t wanna do this anymore
Then come the breakfast table, discussion sours in the bowl
“Cut the dialogue unless your ploughing me, like a real man would”
And suddenly I don’t wanna see her, I don’t wanna see her anymore

It dawns on me that masculinity has lied to me again
This wasn’t the climax of my adolescence Asmodeus implied
The moment that would grant me my humanity, my place in society
In fact you could argue what little humanity I accumulated over time
Has been stripped from me with cynical accuracy
But it’s far too late, the indoctrination has truly sunk in
I’m starting to believe the fallacy, like when intimacy makes it’s absence
It can only imply malice, spite and boredom, it’s like the canary
Once it’s died in the shaft, there’s nothing bring that love back to life
An absurd theory, but the things we fall for before hindsight…
There’s no excitement, no elation, at your continued insistence to be
Your presence in her bed’s like inviting a stone into a shoe
Why aren’t we doing it? Don’t you like me anymore?
And during the hysterics, you catch yourself in the mirror
And you’ve become the very thing that got you here at all
Now I don’t wanna do it, I never wanna do it anymore

There’s no longer any critique from the water to the wine
Chasing that forever fleeting feeling of being revered by someone
Instead going back to that deafening indifference
Maybe the secret to happiness lies with the next one
Asmodeus assures you it’s gonna be the next one
They’ll let you love yourself again
That feeling that curls your stomach when you look at yourself?
That way you hate yourself? It’ll end he promises
But that’s the kind of logic that finds you stuck in the talons
Of those also bound to Asmodeus contract
Except they got a little ace up their sleeve; They’re soulless
It’s a thirst, and it’s gonna be quenched regardless of your consent

Her eyes light up in the doorway, as the true face comes to light
“Oh take me in your arms and put your hands around my neck
And take it all from me like a real man would”
And now I don’t wanna do it, I don’t wanna do it anymore
Her aggression starts to rise from your reluctance
She starts to pin you down and won’t let go
“You’ll take it from me, weather you like it or not, like a real man would”
But I don’t wanna be one, no I don’t wanna be one anymore

Needless to say that wasn’t what I consented too
Not on the night, or when I first got into a man’s suit
I took a year of celibacy to heal my aching soul
As it turns out, a plot twist to no observer, It was never worth it
A brief sense of acceptance by the masses, that crumbled in sunlight
A feeling that I was loved by everyone, but still hated by the one that mattered
They’re the one I’m stuck from sunrise to night fall
It’s the one that screams at the moonlight, every night
Begging for a body that matches the insides
While Asmodeus pats me on the back
For spreading toxic masculinity among the masses
The real me was starving in solitary confinement

A day doesn’t pass when I’m so glad I broke them out
Neither a woman or a man, still someone I’m getting to understand
Solitary nights in and dialogue with the echoes off my walls
It feels so good to get to know them after all this time
And all it cost was the pittance of everything
All the hype and clout I had built, I let it slip through my fingers
My appearance now lowers the mood in the room by 2 octaves
I don’t think anyone’s been glad to see me in a long while
I think Asmodeus sees it as the ultimate exile
But truth be told, I needed the solitude
Maybe somewhere, out there, the appearance of the real me
Is just the thing someone’s been waiting for

Sebastian Noël