I feel at home inside a bag of chips.
A hundred spud fingers holding me with their salty prints,
the walls so greasy you can see through them
like my skin when I’m nervous.
© Carl Burkitt 2020
I feel at home inside a bag of chips.
A hundred spud fingers holding me with their salty prints,
the walls so greasy you can see through them
like my skin when I’m nervous.
© Carl Burkitt 2020