London I Love You But You’re Bringing Me Down

Something for the fruit flies;

something for the pain:

a little pill – 20mg

to get me through each day.


Another rat has appeared

dead beneath the sink;

I sink into my overdraft

to get my round of drinks.


Now my body doesn’t look

like a young man’s does

from sitting in an office,

two hours on the bus.


So when will I grow up,

and what will I become?

Being twenty in your thirties

is not really so much fun.



Sometimes when we talk,

I find that I can walk

from my mind to yours,

and back again.


Sometimes when you speak,

in references oblique

I understand with ease,

what it is you mean.


It’s like a shell,

in which I hear

the ocean’s waves,

crashing clear:

in the salt unplomb’d sea

I hear you, I hear me.

Being Gay

img_1995-1I’ve never really hated myself for being gay

The times when I have hated myself

were for my narcissism, my self-absorbtion

(hello WordPress),

my self-destructiveness,

my angry outbursts at people who I love.


Is that a sign of societal progress?

That I can have a complex, three-dimensional, and in some key ways

flawed personality,

and hate on parts of that

rather than fixate on the fact I’m gay?


Lol…. the ‘fact I’m gay’. That’s a phrase that could probably be

unpacked another time.