Irreverence
Sometimes,
I imagine Amsterdam,
As a leather-clad Dionysus,
Just like how Tom pictured,
With greek god physique,
Subversive demeanour,
And insatiable hedonism.
In the dark alleys,
Of that street we took Pride,
I followed the shadows,
Interacting and intertwined.
Smoke from a fag,
Veiled a bearded face,
In carnal exaltation
Of someone’s piping.
Secrets of the night,
Unraveling right in front
Of a youthful soul,
Whose identity is lost -
Or merely yet to be discovered -
In the wilderness
Of a distant, foreign city.
Coming (of age),
One that is stunted,
Cruising masked subcultures
Of dom cap and sneakers.
Emotions and socialisation,
Clashed on this fleeting moment.
Confused yet mesmerised,
Questioning but intrigued.
Sometimes,
When I look back,
To that formative period
Of discovery and curiosity,
I aspire for that irreverence
To narrate my truth
Of my chosen family
to my own.
