I usually express myself through my paintings, buts its freezing today so sat in a warm pub and wrote. Although not just about being trans, that makes up a large part of it
A conversation inside a wood
The valley lies spread out, a truth in the mist of a forgotten day
Trying to remember before they came, old scars slashed upon her face
I drift slowly down, sheltered depths pull up around me
Its beautiful here, the outside world banished to its own hells, old magic repules the new
Along its sides the old woods sleep in their dark dream, wanting to be awoken
Lost in thoughts of lands reclaimed, cities conquered, people rotting for their pleasure
Air purged of the endless sounds of fruitless triumph
Seas once more drinking flesh aplenty
A path leads deep into her, private, naked, warm
High grasses chatter nervously in the wind
Watch me, talking of the intruder stalking them, trying to gain entry to places gated
The trees arch above, hair streaming down, carrying tears and hate
I disrobe slowly, showing myself to the white hils
Looking at myself in the mirror I apply my truth
Prisoner no more, metamorphous complete, meat reshaped
Gentle cloth brushes softening skin, clad in armour to answer thier questions
We look at each other, no lies anymore
A cold touch spirals into exciting heat
Hand in hand, falling deeper, staring upwards as our hair glistens in brightening stars
Disolving bone, thought, blood, we are nothing once more
This outside horror must be banished we agree
I resent the thought of being sent back to nothing lands of walls and towers
Pulling away from that, visions of what else maybe passes between us
Cycles of time, no good or evil, only spirit and matter
I wake, the place unknown, cold, mud around me, grey difuse light filters to the ground
Heavily I stand, look about, start the long walk back
Tarmac rivers flowing into black oceans, deep and dead
My secret words buried once more, trying to push up and through
(Hook and Hatchit inn, Northdowns, 11/02/2017)
