I AM NOT AN OAK TREE
May 2016, Video
Filmed in response to 'I am not him'
"I am not him.
For he is above me.
He is light and white.
I am brown, thick and soft, bleeding when torn to bled.
I am covered by dark moles; been told the tip is darker.
I beg to be stretched, have white oak fingers work at me.
A stem to grow instead.
His roots cut the brown dust beneath,
A bitter nectar seeps from branch to face.
Only from some trees, if I could be so graced.
Drunk on delusion, stick lips ingest that grown from oppression
I am fed by this very well, a grown obsession.
I am the earth that reaches for alchemy, a transformation to solid oak.
I, the ugly dirt he does not look upon,
yearns to be his home, his hope.
You are the trees amongst other like him,
Lost beneath faggotry, I am not.
Dirty grows acidic
Oak grows indifferent."