Was I a boy, or The New Man,
Someone great or toxic, effeminate or true,
Indebted to the metropolit, awaiting the new,
Atop the stage! Where dreamstruck lightnings,
Lost come out to play, howling through the wire,
And swept in social burdens, yeah?

I dressed in loneful togetherness.
I’m made, I make. And I’ll make it.
Spoilt were the twenty-six years copy-pasted,
Of tailored expectations from the stretched out skin of
Mothers labour, and Fathers tattered flag still,
Waiver on the marrow of my ancestral bones.
I watched their rivers of blood,
Come crashing down my levees.

I ran to nowness from exacting silence.
Put your money where your mouth is,
And scream from the top of your lungs.
Lost in a blizzard of noise, fiery cinder in the breeze,
Raving about the ashes still rising from the
Crippled remains of the toppled twin monstrosities.

When did we forget the big tremble,
From the lovers lasting kiss?
All I feel, is the dry taste of civilisation,
Cowering on the edges of my lower lip.
If my ego were to come alive –
Then I’d swallow the sun,
Just to find a new pair of fresh feelings.