Poem: Tommy

The world is grey, cold, bleak, wistful.

I sit alone, in my discontent and quiet fear.

What will tomorrow be?

I shelter from the storm, only for it to stir in me.

Only for it to come crashing through my door, and find its place inside my head.

The world no longer feels safe.

It feels ugly and isolating.

I feel unwanted. Discarded.

But then a switch is flipped.

A comfort found in absurdity. In oddity.

This post-soviet provocateur is reflecting back my own aspirations.

The artist I want to be, presents as a pencil moustache with braids.

I do not just see differently now, I dream differently too.

I find inspiration. Direction. Courage.

Courage to expose myself to the world.

Courage to let people see the real me.

Courage to once again create in the gloriously absurd way that feels authentic to me.

A simple cup of coffee, masks the significance of the moment.

It will lead me down an unknown path that will see me free.

A flame ignites from the forgotten embers,

and guides my wounded soul back home.

What will tomorrow be? I do not yet know,

but I’m at least now excited to find out.