Pansy Stag Dad

He looks at me with disgust my company and presence
an annoyance to his organised fun.
Oi oi football talk, tits and crotch thrusts… Slaps on the back and Misogynistic chat
I don’t join in the masturbation of their masculinity
institutional rituals
Arsenal n all that Bruv
Alright love !
Phwoar they roar
Eyebrows arch and eyes dagger the uncomfortable nature of the pack mentality … As I fail to engage in festivities.
He identifies me
The weakest – I won’t survive
Alcohol slips through lips stretched across glass pints
They perform their gender under the dank pub lights
Dry rugged hands wipe the mouths and slaps tables.
An uncomfortable rope tightens around my throat
I’m on the periphery of their score board, lowest rank in their social order.
Drinks in
What Ya having?
Beers? I’ll have a MALIBU and coke.
(Fucking Queer)
He orders and delivers me on one breath
Six pints of Stella and one Malibu n coke for the Pansy
Was only a matter of time…
His words fall around my ears like electric feathers, tickling stinging vibrations that reach my heart.
My father leaping to my defence
His son the victim of his own circumstance.
I don’t want to be here
Paternal love and pride provides me with a protection I never valued
Until now.
His attack overheard by my pops ears
Zero fear – 100% wounded
In my maturity and years I recollect that memory.
My Dad’s love for me
My Dad’s acceptance
My Dad’s intolerance of
Breathed life in a balloon trapped inside me for years.
Stag party anxiety
A negative memory popped by a sharp pin
Sparkles of glitter shower from within.
I’ve never told my Dad how much that moment defined me and how proud I am to be his son
His actions spoke louder than words yet
There are no words to
Begin ..To say
I love him
call me what you like
I’m his son



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