trans, nerd.


May 2014

…and gods…

Bow and scrape
And hesitate,
Pray and fold
And offer gold,
Food and life
And sacrifice,
Sweat and blood
And burning wood,
Fists and kicks
And pointed sticks,
Fear and scorn
And gods are born.


Incessant Grey

Fall and drift,
Drop and lift,
Crosswind shift,
Always grey,
Patience fray,
Day by day,
Rain and flop,
Slip and drop,
Please just stop.


Worn and tired faces,
Graceless in the public eye,
Why? Again their words
Heard by us, repeated,
Unheated and cold eyes,
Wise to wide belief.
Relief, there is none,
One-by-one years drift,
Rift tears at their skin,
Thin, unkempt faces
Wasted, worn and tired.

Not Yet

One day

I’ll tell and,


It may go well

Or it may well

Go to hell,

It’s hard to tell.

Another Rigby

Your fondness for felines

Indicates your future

Crazy cat-lady

You are fated to felines and Netflix,

Sharing photos of food.

Your meals are for one

And only one

To “nom nom nom”.

Your decline is a sadness of madness,

A pointless drift into lonely obscurity

Covered in cats

You miss no one

But are missed by some.


We will notice when you pass,

Our feeds will be silent

As the feeds of the cats.


Another slug, bam, right to the gut,

Splinters and shatters in the shotgun grave,

Yet still the victim stands.

Another slug, bam, right to the body,

Grinds against fired grains,

Yet still the victim stands.

Another slug, bam, right to the head,

There’s no coming back from the dead,

And now the victim lands.

A heavy dark and worthless sleep,

Granted by the amber creep,

Always in his hands.


Found comfort where I was not meant to look,

Walked miles in shoes which aren’t mine,

Found solace in draughts and bumps that shook,

Hung out at the end of the line.

Waited for darkness, that first sip of red,

For courage to hold my head higher,

Held my excuses to my chest like a shield,

Said “Fuck it” and danced in the fire.

Tuesday (II)

It’s raining like god’s first piss of the day.

Stop. Start. Stop. Start.

Heavy now and fading quick,

Come back stronger, now a drip,

Gloom-laden greys masking blue

Everything smells old and new,

Fresh and dead at once,

Now lost.

The heaviness remains,

A lighter, sulking grey,

Still, damp and close.

If I’m to get sleep,

God better take another leak.


Light is fading,
The change comes so fast,
Like a mood that swings in the breeze.
I grey,
I fray,
I fret and regret and forget,
But I remember that which matters
With the greatest of ease.

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