From the Womb to the Toilet

Little, pink creatures in mayonnaise lying in a garden of salad. Then, of course, I couldn’t eat it. Soon as I thought about these ‘c’ shapes of sea borne flesh my stomach locked up. When I went for a bit of lettuce I noticed these legs. Deep, reddish pink. And attached to them were more of these little things but with shells on. And they were the same. They must have been. Only much, much smaller. All holding onto these legs. Sort of clung together. It was horrific. Imagine the sound they’d make as you chomped down on them. Like popping candy but fish flavoured.
No, I threw them away. Now they mingle with fag ends, dried snot tissues and breadcrumbs. From the womb of the sea to the toilet of landfill in probably less time than it takes me to worry when, or where, I’ll die.


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