why am i so obsessive
making myself seem like an attention ****
if he knew i’m sure he’d be reprehensive
the potential outcomes bleed out of my head
like a cut
shut my eyes from my heart
tie it up and make it act dead

scared shitless of the idea that
in a month i’ll probably never see
him again

a constant in my life ever since year 7
someone who awoke something in me
allowing me to see who he is
what am i
without him anchoring me
like a drifting ship to shore

my brain bleeds for him
the thoughts of him stabbing my mind
creating cracks of light within the carefully
maintained façade

and i let it happen

Oh, Hyacinthus my heart,
my sanctuary abandoned, abandoned!
for your eyes, your smile and your laugh
Delphi is nothing, incomparable to sands and

waters murky of river Eurotas wading.
Holding you on the banks, embracing
and pleading for this to never end, praying,
my fingertips on your skin, tracing.

Lusted after by all, but only loved by me
Your love, your soul entwined with mine.
In sickness, in turmoil, in health,
in the cold release of death

my love for you, my friend
becomes incarnate like our lord
where he, doing miracles,
opens our hearts and quakes the foundation

my love for you, like his love
for us, opens my heart to your ethereal beauty
and quakes the very foundation of my self

i take thee, my friend, to be my will

Oh, how she calls to me!
My native land, land of highlanders,
and epics of bygone eras
Take me back to those accursed mountains,
and those flatlands where the farmers do produce their yield.

put your head on the table and rest
while i revise for my religions mock
stop studying inspector calls
look over to me and then look away
i won’t know whether you meant it as more

curl up onto the hard surface
in your uncomfortable chair
listening to the classroom buzz

i need you right now,
like a bass to a guitar -
my thoughts don’t make sense without you.
i need your interpretation,
so i can tell where i'm going.
i need your lips on mine,
like a compass needs magnetic north -
it helps me to navigate home.

and i say to him:
have you no shame, no hope
for what you will become?
day by day, you demean yourself
sure, you speak of wisdom and religion,
but you are vain and ignorant.

don’t you know a church window
is supposed to let the sun in?
its colours work together thus,
creating a collage of glory incarnate
where you, mockingly, say that
you are the window itself?

fool, turn around and see so
you know nothing, you are nothing
and continue down this path? you’ll return
to nothingness, a void, somewhere between
something and something else

speechless in the fact he could be mine
but could he be with another?
doubtless that he would be able to get with
another. if he isn’t, do i have a chance?

secure in the will of god to keep me on
the straightest path, but what if he’s on the path?

i’m inspired
be my muse
while we listen to muse

i saw him, my love, kissing him, my hate
then i woke up, filled with vile
and anger of the idea that
my greatest love goes to my greatest hate
instead of me

you really make me swoon for you
weak in the knees for the idea
that you would choose to be mine

your eyes inject me like fentanyl
making me addicted
making me dependent on every glance to live
i’m addicted to your smile, your charm
and all that’s you

god forgive me for
falling into temptations not of the devil
but of myself, my own musing:
forgive me for allowing myself to fall for him
forgive me for not trusting you

you say that you’ll never be gay
or associate with anything queer
but i tell you
the atoms you’re surrounded by are gay
that sun you are feeling is queer
being gay is in the worlds nature
encrusted like diamonds on a coronet

in the beginning






God.

stop looking at me in the hallways
i misinterpret your green eyes all ways.
stop making me fall for you.
im your hired unhired loverboy

my hands burn with the sting of nettle
my mouth, dry and tasting of metal
his lips, scented with chapstick and chocolate
overpower it, taking authority over my
mouth, his eyes establish an orbit
around me, and my life

missing him while i’m in a country
a country where im supposed to be at home
a country that is mine to identify with

i identify with him
with his country, his people, his ideals
i’ll be a soldier for his country if that means
i could be a soldier for him

don’t force me to fight for some far-off land
some land where i can’t be me
where i can’t express my love, my passion

i guess i’m a hopeless romantic.
want to buy petty little things
to see a crack in his pretty smile

want to pick buttercups for him
so i can see the glow on his face
yellow, radiant, much like him

on a summers night drinking
cheap beer and kissing him
knowing his taste over *****

in his bed listening to his
billy joel and nirvana cds
not noticing them playing but

his green eyes piercing my soul
as he side eyes me and smirks
laying in my arms warm embrace

i cannot tell where you stand
or what you think of me
do you tread on dry land,
or do you go through the sea?

your signs are unreadable, your lips are
divine, perhaps a sign that
you are like a traffic light going back
to green, or to red, to tell me to slow my car

but i can’t stop, it’s on a hill
and the brake-line is cut  
and as i gaze out of my windowsill
and see a tree sprouting chestnuts

i sit by the window watching the sun
go down into the horizon, tasting his tongue
on my breath, sweet and sickening like
fruit pastilles or a persimmon, homelike

it reminds me of my future with him
it reminds me of my past without him
all those years wasted not knowing
my love would meet me in that

dead end old school, where hate is bred
and stupidity is taught in what students read
they don’t know anything about life
about love, religion, repentance, longing

for his eyes, his speckled face glistening
in the late-afternoon sunlight listening
to my ramblings about this or that
sometimes his finger pit-pats

on the desk where i first found myself
a sea of endless pain and anguish rescued
by my foolish love, another pointless beckoning
quenched by lack of reckoning

i sit by my window
waiting for him

all the light is here
nothing else near
just the spirit

now, he said he wanted another
said ‘sorry’ like it was a plaster
meant to coverup the hole in my heart
the blood overruns my chambers
my valves are clogged up
my ducts remain open and constantly run
warm water down my face

what did i expect?
for him to not like me, sure,
but nothing could prepare me for the
emptiness of the void of nothingness

i walk along the backcountry road
watching the occasional land rover go by
and i wonder: where did it go wrong?
what mistake in navigating my way home
did i end up down this path, away from
the path i could see the end to

my eyes sting with tears of
love, kissing my cheeks and embracing
my face in a cover of water

the tears streak down my face, dripping
off of my jawline and falling onto the
peanut floor, flaking off into oblivion

the floor leads to the door, wide open as
the possibility of returning to him
completes itself, and goes out with him

you are my lighthouse
guiding me home with your beam
i scurry towards its luminance like a mouse
and run my finger down your body, down your seam

the precum drips out of my head
and my teardams crack
as i mourn the life i could’ve had
the self discovery ripped away
the friends who left, my heart shattered
by saying those two words

new identity made, but is it
just a farce?

new friends made, or do they
want me just for my body?

my heart reconnected with gold and lacquer
but is it all in vain?

i lie in my bed, riding a clarity i only feel
before the shame comes in

your body will
wrinkle and shrivel
crack and deform itself
into a tapestry of frailty and age

what then, will you have?
your best feature taken away from you
no more wages paid - nobody wants elders

weep bitterly, for your life will speak for itself
a life of virtual prostitution, and for what?
notoriety? money? what for?

at the end of the day, you’ll have the light
a beacon of hope that guided you through
listen for it, and it’s still small voice

please forgive me and lead me
to the path to your door
let me see your face and see the light
and demonstrate to me your might
vanquish what is sore
within me, beholding ye

my little black notebook
listens to my ***** and childish secrets
like a confidant
the constant in a turbulent life
my raft in a storm

it holds my fears, my desires
my love -
my heart

it takes me captive, imprisoning me
in shackles i can’t shrug off

can’t feel my grief
can’t ******* rage
can’t grasp happiness
can’t see anything except
nothingness

it swallows my feelings whole,
absorbing my humanity
absorbing my soul
into something familiarly unrecognisable

i dream of
running my hands through
his black curls
but his heart is obsidian
and i am an iron pickaxe

i don’t know what i did wrong
but knowing me, it’s bound to be something
big, something that gives you a right to
cut me off

do you hate me for what i did?
that nameless, insignificant crime of such
significance

i still imagine what my life would be like
if you were still my friend
but now im burning in purgatory
the coolness biting me

O glorify yourself True Lord,
Inner light, providence broad.

Speak through miracle and death
In your spirit may we dwelleth.

May we speak against earthly kings
in favour of the true King, you, O lord.

May we help our brethren in You,
oppose devilish barons for You.

For His light is in everyone, Oh yes you
turk, you jew

Glorify Him in the one True Synagogue or Mosque
and remember, you too, are apart of His flock.

i watch his
raven black curls
flowing in the wind
settling perfectly on his
forehead

i smell the
cologne on his wrist
and he asks ‘what do you think’
‘i think you’re perfect’
is what i would say
but i don't

i brush by
his hand
and a part of me
shatters
knowing i won’t hold it

i hear
the melodious ring
of his laughter
putting me in a trance

i don’t taste
his breath on mine
and i wouldn’t mind
having a reminder
of his lips on mine

a slurry of fire and magma can’t escape
through the crust, being stopped by a
thin layer of earth, unable to express
itself, to wreak havoc upon the earth.

it’s passion is bottled up, its fear is contained,
his fury is sealed, saved for another day
when it can express its emotion.
but now, the crust encases it like a weighted blanket

unadded, exiled from the kingdom
i think back to his enchanting features
and weep bitterly, proclaiming:
oh, woe is me, a person exiled from
the city walls which guards against barbarians

when's it my turn
to not be recieving a burn
but to earn love

revise maths,
revise chemistry,
revise english,
life isnt a test, but revision
for my final judgement.
may i never keep my sins,
but revise it for His sake.

there will come a time, my friend
where you’ll look back on that
road full of bumps and potholes
whole, being able to look in the mirror
and see yourself, not shame, not despair
just you wait

hit me while you look
at me with those doe eyes
strike me on my mouth
where i spew lies saying i don’t like you
cease my heresy and burn me
for speaking against the truth

my record spins around the spindle
it’s rose-shaded hue seen through the dustcover
it plays a symphony of birdcalls and beatles songs
i try to give it away a dozen times but
no one takes it

why does everyone claim to want a record
then they don’t take mine, one in perfect condition
only if you don’t look at the scratches

and they ask me:
why do you subscribe to spotify premium?
and i say that it’s only to put the song
by the smiths with his name on loop
that i might hear his name spoke

People say:
God's evil, or that He doesn't care,
but im contrary to them,
for everytime I pray, or when I cry, or when I call out to him,

He is there.
In the room.
Offering comfort in my soul and assuring me that everything's
going to be alright

He's the voice in the wilderness that says
'come this way to be sheltered from the storm'
I go gladly and I shelter myself
from my worries

i’m your hostage
got me under lock-and-key
your smile is my handcuffs
and your irises my shackles

my ransom hasn’t been set
no negotiators met
blow your cigarette
smoke on my face

keep me in your room
under your bed
near to where your
jumpers and cds are kept

why bother, when
i have no lover
to hold or to be held
in his arms melt