Words: Nikola Kolev (he/him)
Travel nourishes the soul
In my gap year I saw more than most people will in their lives
I’m more fortunate than them
So I have to save them
Filthy beggars on the street
Pickpockets-a-plenty, daddy’s signet ring got pinched
Mountain of fishscale, iridescent, gleaming under the kitchen lights
The flakes break apart in my numbing fingers
Uncut, like the fresh alpine snow under my skis
And if I hit rock bottom,
Daddy will just pay for rehab
Might even get to chop it up with his rockstar friends again
I know their suffering, their empty stomachs
We Only had the bare basics (from Waitrose)
Daddy Couldn’t afford a Rolls ‘til was fourteen
Chauffeur laced my shoes, no need for bootstraps
Now it’s my turn to put my nose to the grindstone
Being a poet’s hard, the favour won’t inherit itself
(Mum’s old classmate owns a printing press)
Order a bottle of Grey Goose. Actually, make it three
The sparklers adorning it bounce glitter off the ice in the cooler
Greek fire ‘cross the dance floor
Hoarse throats hiss like our burning flesh
The fire exit’s been barricaded
Gonna wet my whistle and drop some loose game
You should come to the loos with me
So I can put my keys in your nose
And my fingers somewhere else
All these thirsty third-world kids
Can’t bear to see them,
Daddy would have ripped up bills
Before their eyes back home
There’s much suffering in this world
I need to see all of it so I have something
To talk about during freshers
Oh well! Can’t help,
I must move onwards
I want everyone
They beg
In the world
For scraps
To have my face
They fight
Tattooed
Over nothing
On the inside
We take
Of their eyelids
What’s ours
I want to own their sleep
We own their dreams
You’ll get used
To me soon
You’ll have to get used
To how it is
