Poem 1

Let that smoke fill me lungs

– cigarettes and cloves –

The cigarette smoke uncovers me,

Tears asunder my steel,

Strips back the cloth,

Leaving my thoughts bare.

The armour which I wear to cover

My shame, my fear.

If I was guilty, my crime was innocence.

I know what you are- what you’ve done.

I can’t pray for the gods won’t listen

But the lies that drip from your lips are just as false.

There’s fire beneath your charm

– A wrath of a sort –

Smouldering ashes askew across

The floor of our house.

It was always your eyes, those ashes

Scattered across those eyes,

Alright from beneath – with anger.

That is what I remember of you,

Half drunk eyes, alight with fire,

The liquor upon your breath.

Now I’m giving into those memories,

My dreams filling up with smoke

Choking my lungs

– cigarettes and cloves –

Which I guess is unhealthy,

But it’s how I remember my father

His words, his neglect.

I will try to breath those memories I see

For they’re all he left me.

So as I write from this oxygen deprived mind,

I take in that cigarette smoke

Something to remember him by I guess.

Maybe I’m a little in love with the feeling,

The inability to breath – the need for air.

I wish the costs were even,

That leaving that house was worth the scars

– that these lessons have been gifts –

That now the flowers can bloom

Upon a new day.

And it was at the altar that we sacrificed,

Little pieces of ourselves,

Just to satisfy your ego.

But we can’t live like this.

I can’t live like this.

Breathing the smoke in my lungs instead of air.

I need to breath father, I need a moment to breath,

Just a second…

But thank you for these memories

For they have taught me so much,

And I would not be the person I am today without them.

And I’m sorry I can’t live like this,

So I close my eyes and sink into my mother’s hands,

Letting the night paint me,

As I sail upon those darkling skies

Towards myself, towards the morning.

So that I may once more breath,

Being truely free.

I think I’ll pray,

Let my words drift up to the heavens,

Where hopefully the gods may hear them,

Asking to make this world a better place.

Poem 2

In the night – upon that altar – kneeling

I shall confess my sins with his hands 

Running across my skin.

That sweet fire

The burning desire

Raging through my body and my…

I shall confess my love – or is it lust? –

That I consumed to fulfil this life,

The sex that I have craved.

I needed it and wanted it,

I had been hungry for all the years

That I had starved in that house.

Father forgive me for my transgressions.

I have walked through those fires

– glut myself upon that fruit –

And I guess I’ve been burnt, 

The stain on our image immutable.

Maybe blood runs just as freely as water.

Father I confess that it hurts…

That I crave the pain, the touch,

How can I breath this air unless 

It’s through these lungs?

This flesh of mine that I had no choice in

– These feelings I have no say in.

Father I see the truth now.

I was never enough, not now or ever,

Regardless of your words.

I’m flawed and broken but that’s ok.

And with his hands upon my body,

Then, and only then,

Shall I have set myself free.

Father forgive me.

Poem 3

The words you say are empty air, 

for I will never change, I’ve tasted

the fruit and cannot turn away.

I’ll cleanse my body through the 

Pain, taste blood upon my lips,

scream and shout till I’m ok.

And maybe you beat me to make

me less gay, but one day these

marks won’t feel like shame.

But today I see, we bleed just to

feel and the bruises my lover leaves

taste sweet like cinnamon.

I’ve learnt that sex is just a game,

to feed and feed my heart, and who

I love doesn’t make me guilty.

I refuse to feel ashamed.