Saturday, 25 February 2012

How To Be A Good Chaste Boy

Starved of contact.
I am addicted to intimacy.
A sucker for those old songs,
the ones that mention the afterwards.
The melancholic song of goodbye.
The chaste ones will never feel it.
How smooth and sweet our love is.


I am in love with the action,
of bodies in all their forms,
Cocooning me from the world,
making me feel human.

I want your fingers to stroke my skin,
as we tumble in our ecstasy.
A solitary action that brings us closer,
making it so much harder to leave.

The build up of loneliness is so horrific.
I lie here and wish for all that peace again.
For now that I am missing it,
I finally see it’s grace.

Tuesday, 14 February 2012

Dreams Of Canada

In January
A long time ago
A boy walked
On the lands outstretched
Little silhouettes of icicles
His eyes bright as he hears
The howls of  the wolves

Now he sits here
The condensation,
Freezing on his windows
The taste of bitterness,
On his tongue
The cries of mating cats,
His soundtrack

But his promised land
Is so far away
He dreams of a pink house
A pack of wolves
Running through the forests
Barking at the elk
Nipping at them as they flee

For now
He is alone , his dreams
Are shattered and broken
His hopes are simple
He wants his freedom
He needs to be loved
But he is denied this

Wednesday, 8 February 2012


I can’t ponder people anymore. It gives me nothing but headaches and disquiet to navigate this world as someone who notices. Those little hidden glances, the little snide comments of the anthill. I could extend my hand but I feel like you’d steal my fingernails if they were worth anything.
I wish this world was something I could dip my toes into occasionally. Not something I have to live in. This place, filled with such spite and perfume, perfume to cover up it’s seedy underbelly and rotten core. All the casual remarks about gender, sexuality,class and race coming from the lips of middle aged white women. If I keep trying to find some beauty in this world, I will be forever disappointed.