Veg stock

take a little bit of sadness

throw it deep inside the pot

don't tell anyone about it

we want emotions to be lost

now leave the pot in a corner

feverish but out of sight

check on it late at night

scream bloody murder inside

cut yourself and let the blood run in

take the hate you have and add it in

over time the pile will grow

with fetid greens and moldy fuzz

seeping juice and virile gasses

the mass inside the pot should be dense

mucus clinging with depressing strength

more than you've got 

less rot than your heart

or broken parts

matter of fact this pot of filth is worthwhile

but your not 

so piss off

crawl into your own pot 

shrivel into something useful 

like veg stock

but even your the worst of the lot 

I love veg stock

versatile and cheap

compared to meat

better still 

while being flavour filled

cures the sad and ill

without the need to be distilled

I love the broth it coats my lips

sticks to my ribs and fills my hips

it's deep and rich an hot as fuck

it's overlooked that kind of sucks

Victoria's sponge

Classier than clotted cream
she sandwiches me between
the sheets of good intentions
and unhealthy conventions
with sweeter sayings than
strawberry jam and I can take
each seed of sweetness
she feeds me honestly
because her layers are promising
the foundations are strong
yet she's fluffy and light
a subtle vanilla sponge
that sits neatly on my tongue
till I wrap myself around her
 that's the best thing about cake
you'll always go back for more

Brandy snaps

Ever had heart-break sharper than a biscuit

Within her, the sadness simmers gently 

while the fat rises up 

the scums on the surface but you didn't skim it off

when your friends fail to notice

that's when friends fall off

rooftops

and pots splatter

stove tops

without comfort

mug shots

life gets lost

But give a girl a little care

the same way you give a meat rub

sweaty grips and tracing skin with fingertips

laced with ginger kisses

followed up by meringue words

gentle sweet and fragile

not to be sustained 

till one day 

we fix this 

and her heart becomes a biscuit

but recipes get repeated 

 

Fried rice

Fried rice on a late night
a transition from the sunlight
to have a lunar eye hang high
hope to hell that I don't blink twice

cause I rarely spot the passing time
might be the tears across my eyes
blocking sight like grains of rice
falling so gradually
but now the rice has filled the pan
maybe my tears can top it off
so when it boils ill hold the salt
cause my seasoning is sadness

its a dash of powder in a dish
inside the ocean just one fish
I'm sad now ill be sad again
but the sun rises and I'm glad again