a town where empty souls roam the streets
My name is Sasha, I’m a 25 y/o Copywriter living in London. By day I work in Advertising by night (and usually lunchtimes too) I find myself lamenting through poetry. It keeps me sane. It keeps me happy.
Yesterday’s Donuts.
So far south
it feels like the end of the world,
discarded ideals and beer-battered aspirations
litter the shore line.
Yesterday’s donuts sunbathe with
tomorrow’s comedown – still warm and wet from penetration
and washed away with Glen’s
–
so far east
the sun barely reaches.
A town filled with aged people
haunted by ever-present problems
that linger at every shop door.
You shall not pass
without the guilt of privilege
weighing – gently ebbing
–
so far detached,
this isn’t home anymore.
Not even the ghost of puberty past
or rosy mist of reminiscence
can fool me now
–
-but I’m tethered anyway,
–
to a town where yesterday’s newspaper
gets printed with regret
and fingered with greasy intent –
where the self-perpetuating cycle starts at 15
with a broken condom
on a dusty sofa
at a shit party
with your brother’s friend Dean –
a town where empty souls roam the streets
at the ripe age of 23.
–
They’re starved of purpose –
and dehydrated by the sea
Sasha Newbury
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