Yesterday’s Donuts

Sasha Newbury

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 is a 24-year-old Copywriter living in London, originally from the not-so-sunny shores of Southend-on-Sea. She studied English Literature at Royal Holloway, University of London and despite desperately longing for - is still dogless.