This poem is part of the SPOONFEED takeover of New Writing, curated by Kat Payne Ware and Sean Wai Keung. You can read the issue in full at spoonfeedmag.com/spoonfeed-x-new-writing
Yes, I’m aware of the ketchup stain on my jumper
It’s there so that I don’t have to tell you I’m struggling
The whole point of filter coffee was its bitterness that
It cost 80p & was drunk in the rain & not served in a cunting
Chemistry set & my eggs are cold & twice as expensive
This does absolutely nothing for the movie in my head
All I know is that today I was meant to write
My best ever poem about eating ass
But I’ve never felt so un-fucked
As by this avo on toast
……………………..Food
……….Orientated
..Ontologies
I can’t remember
What that means though have
A tendency to drop the phrase
At job interviews, I admit I was
Broke for three years
Because I never learned how to cook
Lived off coagulated ready oats & pizza
Now the hours are spent contemplating
Sesame roasted asparagus
I wonder if October sun
Still rolls over Telegraph Hill
If I am asleep somewhere
A pensive mayo stain all along
Beware them both
Hope & dread
