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.
