Tasteless words, bland conversations with overpriced cocktails at a below par bar in London. Slipping away at the end wondering why he wasn’t The One and when The One will show and will he show any time soon, yada yada yada.
There's not a lot you can say to somebody who's ill. Somebody who coughs like they're allergic to oxygen and can't find clean air to breathe, somebody who sniffs and snuffles and talks in a muffled croaky, woe-is-me voice, fractured and afraid that the common cold might kill them. I've had plenty of illnesses, plenty… Continue reading Dodging germs
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
People rush to shove their bags overhead Like a herd of wildebeest and you're mufasa. They prance and prowl about in this tiny aisle, knocking you sideways. Before reaching far-flung corners of the world, They'll fling their luggage tags at you, Run over your big toe And elbow you in the cheek, arm or collar… Continue reading Planes, trains and automobiles
It's impossible to act like a princess when you're eating ramen. I pull apart these stubborn chopsticks, and watch the wood splinter, like lovers scorned they leap apart and drown in an oil-soaked, soupy bath where mushrooms bob up and down like caramel apples and bamboo shoots cling to beansprouts for dear life. My lips… Continue reading Dirty ramen
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.
At 18 I lusted after boys with big hair And curly tendrils everywhere Like Chase from Zoey 101 Or the late but great Jim Morrison. We got dolled up and went to clubs Were hit on by married men in pubs Who wanted nothing more than to grope our bums And pray we didn't tell… Continue reading 18 vs 25
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.
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