i glaze it w honey (in moderation all good for me)

need to stop forcing myself
relax and stop waxing
satisfaction never guaranteed
i can’t promise it’ll net me worth
and the more i wish it so, the less it does

never used to have projects this wholesome
to walk home thinking about my stories
and how to finish them
to wake up and wonder if i’ll finish any today
but i feel overwhelmed by choice
and the pressure i put on myself
i’m shut down, caged can’t formulate
i’m no longer a torrent of ideas,
i’ve put myself on a pedestal but i’m afraid of heights
so i climb back down and try to tap back in
remembering the rules that i remembered to forget
i’ll try to free myself again
and burn away barriers of my own making

what exactly am i tapping back into?
and what was it that stopped me in the first place
willing to explore in hope that i will find
some kind of door, a passage, a prompt
an opening but really it’s myself
the door is me and my pressure has closed it
and now it’s stuffy in here while i’m trying to think
watch as i sweat out all of my minerals
dry as a bone i’m drained, dry fruit
cold and wrinkly but still slightly nutritious
i was juicy once, but can dry fruit make it all the way back?

this raisin says it can so
but this raisin needs to pace itself
remember what the games about
i enjoy myself
so the tiny raisin defies all odds
defies history, growing green
but does not stop at grape, adapting
taking from all fruit, becoming
bananaesque and avocadoish
apple-y and orangelike
melon sized with mango vibes
seasonal like clementines
like plantain shallow fry me
peel me, taste me and consume me
i’m nutritious cold and wrinkly
i am a fruit of prey
and if you don’t like it then you can go suck a lemon
because i’m dry fruit with ambition
aiming to reclaim turns of phrase
i rejoice in going pear-shaped
i’m forbidden fruit that’s good for you
and i’d rather eat the cherry
in my spacious pea pod claiming
cucumbers were never cool
but always subjective i’m flexin now
waxin now maybe i’m in bloom again

untitled (JUST KIDDING)

don’t leave me hanging
it’s a blow to my wavering confidence
my shivering confidence, the little boy inside
who sometimes takes the form of a man who knows exactly
what he wants and what he thinks is right
and believes he is special and talented
and beautiful
and the man thinks back to the boy he was five minutes ago
and he loves that boy and channels him
and maybe my confidence wavers, yet
but i believe in myself
yet, at the same time doubting
the dimensions of my being bouting
so it’s like the scales are out of balance
on a windy day, at an angle, no
balancing precariously then falling
into a full, panicked descent
gravity. but there’s more to me than that
and nothing and no one is ever that simple!
so the scales smash into a thousand pieces
and i rejoice, no longer restricted
i’ve now transcended metaphor
and its remnants lie on the floor before me

i come to and watch you walk on
you smiled and walked away,
probably trying to remember my name
remembering that i was a nice young man
and maybe you fancied me too

just hi5 me next time

get chicken

what is it you wanted from the shop?
chicken off the shelf, shop-standard
ground mulled chicken
and curry pasta clogging my throat but i manage
washing it down with gravy and more chicken
and i want milk but i don’t have any
no fucking cow juice to ram down my throat
i yearn for more cream, thick as can be
devouring my chicken n’ cream
i  am a ‘dairy’ indulgent individual
with melted cheese oiling my lips
essential grease all over my lips and chin
and i revel in my oiled-slick countenance
gleaming with pride
i want to ooze cheese essence, drinking
blended cheese burgers as my night cap
pockets stuffed with mince beef and my phone
chips wrapped in spaghetti and bacon, deep fried
then i melt a load of cheese on it

while a team of scientists sit behind me
with their clipboards, their lanyards
thermometers and bunsen burners
white coats and numbers, ultimately
and we’re all hard at work
they siphon steaming, viscous sludge from my stomach
they heat some up and freeze some
and conclude that if from some obscure source,
things always ends up tasting at least a bit like chicken

a champ complex

outplayed and in pain, but i got this
after all, i’m the champ, plot armour clad
without me, where would this game be?
and how many people would be stood there watching?
without me, not many.
my legacy in the making, they came
to see me breaking bones, taking the belt home, the belt made me
..and enables me to make history

i take blow upon blow, glancing
strikes weather me down, and i fall to one knee
roaring masses singing me to sleep, my mind spins slowly
and the challenger emerges through the blurriness of things
shifting in stance and transferring weight
form perfect, i ponder my fate
and my plot armour, recast
a role re-written for a champ no more

i go off script and brace for impact
throwing up my arms in prayer,
i block an otherwise deadly attack
a familiar bell rings and i ponder the belt
roaring masses singing slowly, a soundtrack to my legacy
consuming me. i collapse onto a wooden stool
and familiar tones beckon for my comprehension
i choose instead to once again ponder

i just wanted to make everyone proud

along the way i became a celebrity
a projection of my projected legacy
crawling with plot armour, unrecognisable 
without this game, where would i be?

the bell rings again and i thank it
i have cast down plot armour and am lighter for it
and i listen to the roars of they who came
not just for me but for the love of the game

i lunge towards the challenger, my intentions are clear
my strike grazes a shoulder, and just as i had feared
an alien mass collides with my jaw
and i ponder years of ardent training, and a lifelong ambition colliding
with my jaw
my head seems to spin all the way round and then some, mouth now gaping open
slowly collapsing, mouth gushing, i choke and gaze upon my challenger
deserving in victory, actualising legacy
making them proud, the crowds welcome
a new champion, idly i lie
my title relinquished

i’m disposable

what u were to me
hopeful, exciting, exquisite
beautiful naked, beautiful soul
and i felt beautiful with you
love that could’ve been
i’ve lost what could’ve been

now something mutated that i can’t
consistent in making me sad, my affliction
once a blessing, now defeat
and i can’t shake it
all tails between all legs i walk home, i
lick my wounds and nurture them
they’re bleeding again

but it was never to be love
i am driven by infatuation
dizzying infatuation hazing my judgement
lines blurred, but i wave away the fog
and see the conclusive truth
case closed but no closure
i’m still weighed down and i can’t shake it
so happy around you and so sad afterwards
yours, sadly