Three cans of carling looking hurriedly abandoned
Unwanted

Full of fizzy cheer

Left by the verge of the knocking shop
Née graveyard

There they were

Frozen spudcuts with two sorry eggs
Weeks if not months past their best

Butchered

Hours of  digital Morgan and
Not one single tune known

Beforehand

Shave chin and neck front and back fill the bath three times over

Afterwards

Choke under an assortment of
Sarah Lunds finest

Knitwear

Open the curtain to the main window
Blankly gaze through a fine lace

View

Is it really five years?


Tabs and Butts
Fill the ashtray
Formerly known as

Soupbowl


The scent of half cooked oven chips
Turns my stomach

Yellow

A decision is made to sup
It down quickly
Turn the oven

Off

Written by
Seb Smythe