The week after, I've been left with flaming wreckage. A plane engulfed by biting fire and yapping sparks has been laid at the foot of my bed like a weak old party balloon. "Is this what courting is?" I find myself saying. Sounding strangely like a grandmother with clotted cream hair and purple eyelids. Is… Continue reading The week after
We swigged And I suffered through a glass of tepid, flat prosecco (Complimentary so failure to chug was not an option) Then the glass turned bottle-shaped And bubbles pierced my lips and throat And I'm pretty sure my teeth groaned after being sugar-slapped. After three glasses each (or two?) the bottle was empty Like an… Continue reading Hangovers
Cockroaches are underrated They're universally hated For being oh so dirty And a little too flirty With mess and food And people's shoes So they're stamped on and crushed Or down the toilet they're flushed Gut reaction is to squash And give your hands a good wash People don't realise A cockroach can survive Atomic… Continue reading Cucarachas
Porn for the stomach Orgasm for the soul masala mayhem ensues. A creamy layer of coconut and almonds topples on top of chicken chunks and lips are licked while throats yawn open like snapping crocodiles. In and out feeding frenzy bite and swallow love at first sight. Indian food, will you marry… Continue reading Stop objectifying chicken tikka.
I recently moved back home and I guess I didn't realise How much meat is sliced and diced Within these blistering walls. Every day there's chicken in the fridge And pork in the freezer A mint jelly pot lying dormant in the cupboard. Chicken and veg sitting stupidly on a Sunday, Tuesday and Friday plate, Chicken noodles… Continue reading The House of Meat
That choking pre-work anxiety Creeps in like Sunday doom. Rain spits at window panes And boots line up by the front door, Caked in mud, smothered by weekend walks And forest frolicking. That insufferable discomfort Of wanting to do everything and yet nothing at the same time Creeps in like Sunday doom. Hours in front… Continue reading Sundays are the worst.
We plodded down south in his red little car, the sun spewing its rays onto the chipped windscreen and me with my knees bent, resting against the dashboard, inches from my eye sockets. Rolling into New Orleans listening to a mind-bogglingly awful podcast about American diabetes, we took shelter in somebody's shed at the bottom… Continue reading New Orleans
Tan pronto todo se empezó, se acabó. Dos años y medio a su lado, Sus labios ya no se acercan los míos. No los buscan, no los acarician como hicieron antes. Él, años luz de donde estoy yo, ahora, Viajando por un país de peligros, incertidumbre y Caminos torcidos como espaguetis. Conversaciones por teléfono, permitidas… Continue reading La ruptura.
I say a massive "fuck you" to the cough gods, For leaving me a spluttering mess at 1am. Gasping for air, choking on imaginary bile and stupid cat hair, Spray leaves my mouth in a hideous display Of air-desperate fury. A tickle turns into torture, Ribcage about to burst through skin because it's been ravaged… Continue reading Coughing frenzy
As we rolled into Florida, Pink, tasteless, gut-wrenching, blossom-coloured buildings Adorn the sidewalks with big lettering And lopsided decor. Wide shopping strips full of Disney discounts Arouse passers by with promises of cheap thrills And bloated rollercoaster rides. Applebees, Taco Bell, Red Lobster and Krispy Kreme kiosks Make young mouths water and old wallets yawn… Continue reading Florida