top of page
  • Writer's pictureLippy

My Inner Monologue

Sam's Inner Monologue...

I love it when he’s with me Do I really? I love him holding me, wanting me, kissing me My toes get all wrigglely I feel good in myself, confidence rises I feel pure Something changes – I get calm Are you really sure I love being with him I get him All… Kinda hot A bit grim Isn’t it umm You what Isn’t that Stop I need this When everything is wrong I can text and feel In his sheets Warmth and fingernails and love and comfort It’s like I’m safe He protects me I’m covered

You know it’s not right It’s not what you want You’re falling low and it’s not love It’s like you’re sinking deeper into the pond You can’t breathe and there’re weeds round your neck

It’s not comfort you need You can’t live your whole life in this disconnect It’s better to be alone than lie to yourself like-

I’m not lying it’s truth If I feel good about something And I need to feel good about something If I feel good about something isn’t that better than not It’s not what you need And it’s making it worse It’s not yours when you do this It’s theirs Yourself belongs to THEM when you do this

Maybe sometimes. But not always. I’m allowed to enjoy something and not have it mean the whole world. It’s honesty And it’s okay to be honest like that But this is nice. This is safe. This is fun. Fuck that actually it never fucking does It doesn’t belong to anyone but me My actions can’t ever change that Categorically can’t ever change that There are no weeds round my neck I have total control Total freedom There is not dark disconnect No big black hole I’m not lying to myself I’m indulging myself Can’t that be it all?

Surely you realise the language you’re using Pure, protects Comfort and disconnect This doesn’t say freedom to me This doesn’t say happy You know what it does say? “I’m a victim of the patriarchy”

Maybe. Probably. But aren’t we all? What’s the difference between this and choosing Not to be 100% completely and utterly fucking appalled That once again Women are being stamped on Trodden on Victims of Britain’s ongoing public humiliation of our gender Facilitation of disgust at our achievements. Where was the outrage when May banned our vigil? Where was the warfare when Belly was spat on? Where was the compassion when our women died from diseases Men were cured of within an instant. I like feeling good about this.


Words: Sam Cooke

Image Credit: Sam Cooke


Recent Posts

See All

stoned sex

They smoked heartily. Each inhale turned gloriously (and almost imperceptibly) into an exhale. Each and every muscle fibre let go. Each little facial muscle becomes utterly useless apart from (of cour


bottom of page