A collection of memories you will never be:

I’m never going to school, hoping every day that you’ll speak to me
Until you decide you’re not gay, on top of your creaking bed
Five years later

American Spirit will never return me to you
The first time you put me second
A call on Regents Canal

I’ll never imagine our flat in the Barbican
Me the CEO, you the stay-at-home-Dad
Two kids in the wheelbarrow

You’ll never spoon me to sleep
While I cry
Wondering on my gender

You didn’t think I was the intern the first time we met
And there’s not a year and an ocean between
Our second and third date

I hope you enjoyed your five year experiment
Would it have been different if I’d met your Mum?
Would we have tried in the same city?

What if you said yes?

Tears shed, Memories collected
Ghosts of the living

Each term hoping there’s a new kid
A gay new kid
Who likes me

I’ll always look over your shoulder
And you mine
But we could have had a good time


Nevermind: On equality

Tu ropas
An intentional mark
to hang yourself

Hand on your hip

You’re just like us now
Blokes in a dress
two girls in a suit

What a respectable pursuit
High Society is up for grabs
You a perfect accessory
to my perfunctory life

The rings
altered beyond design
Vibration is not like mine

The universal pain of men

Hurt boys, lost boys, wild boys


Lost in a wild world of hurt


Unable to express their feelings

Unable to feel their feelings

Feeling undeserved of feelings


Trapped in a cycle of low self-worth

Alone and unable to be alone

With friends, unwilling to be friends


Am I a friend? A brother, mother, lover?

Taking more than you deserve

Pushing away what you need


Together and alone by yourself

And with me


How many times have I had this conversation?


Grounding, respect, love


Hidden within them


Find it and we can go from there

Me and him

If bitches want Nikes, I’m that bitch
Grey tracksuit 
Tattoos on his neck 
Form and movement 
A glance 
Hold it longer than acceptable
Look away, then turn

Eyes with intent 
Did I feel that?  
Turnaround just to be sure 
Wow, that stare.
If colour could talk, that boy loud 
Button up shirt, buttoned down 
Chanel #5 

Have I gone too far? 
His arm just twitched
out of his shirt
What should I say?
No underwear, a cock shaped groove 


‘I wanna’

‘-suck that dick’
I guess my girlfriend is away
That said, I know what she’d say: 
Go for it 

Going for it hard 
A swimmer, smooth skin
Smells of chlorine 
Is that an 8 pack?

I jump, a jolt, that tickles
Sharp intake of breath
And relax 
‘How’s that for you?’

‘Choke me’
Lust for swag
Just a greedy fag

Fuck man 
I don’t think like that 


High as a kite

But not free like a bird

Sitting in a pile of spew

I am not your therapist

I can’t heal your pain

Yet here we go again

The threesome

Three bodies
His breath
My back
Your neck

Double or half?

The worm farm of ideas

Blind, wriggling around in a pile of scraps
scrapping away
the shit you produce
Might come in handy someday

If only the mind were a worm
Worming away
at the doubt niggling around in your head
the shit you produce
might farm a good idea
Trust it, I say