MOTHS: A Poem

I wrote a poem for the purpose of exploring potential performance options as I've been advised to look into adding a performative aspect and dimension to my work.

My poem is called MOTHS and can be listened to here.

I wanted it to be cryptic and dense and filled with imagery from pop culture, sensory experience, and insects. I also wanted to include singing parts to break up the poem into something with more tonal variety, and at the same time just to bring it fully into the pop sphere (the poem includes sections from One Direction, Taylor Swift, and Britney Spears songs.

It has a very furious, feverish feel the way I've read it here, which I think (hope) would be very engaging (and hopefully even mesmerising) performed. I am interested in having a hypnotic effect of some kind on an audience as that would really allow me to take control of their senses and make them feel odd, thus drawing into my world via that altered sensation.

IDEAS:

I would possibly like to write a very long poem that could become quite a big (although intimate) performance/reading. I am unsure whether to combine this with other media or if it would be best suited on its own - mad and stark against a background of blankness.

full poem as of now:

MOTHS
the hearts align,
squashed together,
bleeding into each other,
not like a metaphor,
pushed up close like a scrotum on a window,
all soft and folded,
like a bedsheet but pulsing,
I know that feeling,
like your skin is strobing,
disco sensation,
lampshades are like bodies,
high and bright,
round and waving,
I love flying into both,
bruising lampshades,
kicking bulbs,
loke mate I ain't here for a sausage roll,

Ed Sheeran and chips,
dripping nice and heavy nice and slow,
mud pies for breakfast all balanced on the window,
the smell of grass is in my mouth,
I smell like flowers and I taste like milk,
heaven is in one direction
[sung] do you remember summer '09 wanna go back like pressing rewind

snakes and birds of prey sit on the little mountain and sing,
they love east 17 and missy elliot,
my alcopop has spilled on the floor but everything is bliss,
my toes are midnight blue,
the stars are inside them,
the stars are in your eyes,
the stars are in your toes

I am all moths,
I eat your clothes,
your pocket's in my mouth,
detergent sandwiches for supper,
[sung] you got that long hair slicked back white t-shirt and I got that
insect hunger for your delicious worn elastic
[sung] oh baby baby how was I supposed to know
the threads have frayed to dust,
with a faint smell of Lynx and Geri Halliwell,
how can I tell what the moon smells like?!
well I ask