In the kitchen
of the top floor flat
I’m ignoring the dread
and preparing a sandwich

There’s garlic mayonnaise spread thick
from each seeded crust
tessellated lettuce
buttoned jalepenos.
It’s the ‘ham’ that confuses people-
you can’t tell that it’s quorn from within.

I cut it into squares,
my triangles were never neat enough.
Tomorrow as I crunch and bloat
I’ll be thinking of how to break the news
word the resignation
and sign it cursive sarcasm.

From now on,
no confused and
overbearing voice
will ask me-
‘I thought you were vegetarian?’

Hungry for sweet apple pie
the one that comforts, when you cry
Thirsty for, a hot coco
One thats not bitter though
I'm craving, some tasty chips
The zesty kind, you can't resist
I got an urge, for jalepenos
What a kick, doesn't grow old
A milkshake sounds nice
Lots of sweetness, will suffice
Mmhh sweet pears,
that are always there
But unfortunately,
these foods are rare
So my plate remains
hungry and bare.