Words by Ralph Eliot Seaborn & illustration by Georgia Little
it keeps me fresh, this secret fountain of
freakishness. monstrosity: luminous
electrical current flows beneath suave
facades. indecisive shapelessness.
self as nebula, used to infiltrate,
penetrate defences, but making me
unable to speak up, articulate
visions of the unreal, truly reveal
the hideous, shocking horror inside.
my whole life i have been ashamed of what
i really am, yet begging coy delight
when bleeding not blood but light from a cut,
pondering; what revolt can there be in
the love that shines from this vast energy?