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.