My poetry and fragments

I anaesthetise myself

On you on my phone on books on plays on my fingers

But

In the shower

There is no escape

From my mind

I don’t want to be a Ravenclaw

Insignificant

Sorry

But you are

Everything dates

So quickly

Less is

I can’t find the right notebook

Will I ever collect my writings into one book. 

Or one blog. 

I hope so. 

I think

It is the key to self 

Love

I am a privileged hypocrite

A jealous creature

Who dreams of destruction

To soothe me

And yet, dammit, I wanted social change too

Intensely violently even (but apathy, through years of failure I cry, you young people do not understand)

Hollow words or valid feelings

You decide

Stubborn independence

Even if it kills you

How many identities

Are allowed

Genderfluid is beautiful

But clashes so loudly

With unified sense of self

Or does it

And and and

You now is a completely new person to you then say the buddhists

But the psychologists disagree

Would you rather (be trapped in?)

Reluctant (terrifying?) certainty

Or (enjoy?) terrible (freeing?) uncertainty

How can we change and yet stay the same

Why is no one talking about all the doublethink in the world

In the workplace

In our homes

In our beds

In our minds

On this page

People change so

Slowly

Imperceptibly

But then

Suddenly

Everyone is polyamorous

And I am an outcast

Yearning for monogamy

But knowing

It may never again be for me

Shower or sleep

Sleep

Shower or be late

The extra time on the weekend does not really help

People really fucking love to label me

Like I’m some sandwich in Tesco

You’re middle class

You’re posh

You’re reduced to 87 pence.

Well, I couldn’t care less what they write on their stupid labels because I know that I don’t know:

my class

my gender

my race

my skin colour

my religion

my sexuality

whether I want kids.

I know that I don’t know:

my class

my gender

my race

my skin colour

my religion

my sexuality

whether I want kids.

So quit asking, quit assuming, quit judging me.

Come, make a daisy chain instead

Walk barefoot on the grass

Have a picnic in the park 

Swing on a swing

Stare at clouds

Play hide and seek with a child

Hold my hand

Dance

Don’t be scared to be you

That would be silly!

Am I alone?

Is anyone ever alone?

Maybe I want to be alone.

But. Death. Failure. Void.

I need to scream now.

SCCCRRREEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMM

That was moderately satisfying.

Why do we? Really? I mean. Just why?

just bez i said just bez no not short for anything no my parents weren’t massive happy mondays fans well they might have been but it’s irrelevant why should i have to say i chose my name why i know people are curious but do they have a right to know i don’t question them and say why are you called tom did your grandparents have a tom cat that would be silly but people think they are entitled to know i know it is interesting unusual to be called bez but should i have to explain it and how can i explain it without talking about being non binary and trans and that’s not bad or anything but its emotionally draining and we only had a few minutes and i don’t know if they were really listening anyway and maybe i should have given them a chance but i forget what happened i think i said i chose the name but tom went selectively deaf or maybe he just didn’t hear me i don’t know

I hate genitals

Let’s all be action men

With buttons to press for an orgasm

Let all our orgasms be the same

Let them all be consensual

Let humans no longer be divided by their crotch

Let us stop birthing children

Into a cruel cruel world

And instead nurture our fellow humans

From fear, doubt and loneliness

To love, friendship and joy

What is a poem in fact?

A forum for existential anguish

Couched in metaphor

With a not quite prose form

A place for the banal and deeply meaningful

A place for expressing love, joy and sorrow

A way to feel alive, to connect with others

An easier way to process complex feelings

Something with a beginning, middle and end

Clearly definable

It might leave you wanting more, but it does end

Unlike the never ending thoughts in my head

The constant dread

The fear, the shame

The loneliness

The self-loathing

Never enough

I will never be enough

But this poem will end

It will suffice

The joy of friendship

Is my crack

The joy of holidays

With no responsibilities

And lots of social occasions

Is unsurpassable

The thrill of free or discounted cultural events

Is my heaven

Harry Malfoy fanfic

Is my bliss

Phone calls with my sister

About fun and silliness

Board games, improv games

Reading scripts

Discovering new music

And hearing a friend play live

Dancing to old school tunes

Left wing comedy, people and plays

Politicians speaking out on refugees

People changing their language to be more inclusive

Life is good

Don’t you dare deny it

Three of my pieces are published in this lovely book “JOIN THE LINES. WE ARE HERE” – to celebrate Trans Pride 2020.

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