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A poem by Simon Tester

White Carbs

White Carbs

Why? Why do I cry?

 

When? When will it stop. Oh, when will it stop?

 

Who? Who could and and who can?

 

How? How was I so foolish.

 

White carbs. Holding me back.

I was once a man but now I lack

The motivation, or confidence,

To have a little red light dance.

 

To prove myself, this was the day,

But indigestion had it’s way.

So I’ll have to wait in this cafe,

Whilst all my friends still think I’m gay.

 

I’ll calm my nerves and smoke some green

As bigger boys let off some steam

Unbelievable, it may seem

But these carbs make my stomach scream.

 

Why? Why have these carbs never affected me in life,

in any way or form before this scenario?

When? When will I get the chance to redeem myself as a man?

Who? Who would not believe an excuse this profound

and unrealistic regarding the amount I actually ate?

How? How does Jason conjure an excuse that is more viable

and have everyone dismiss his failure,

without receiving any backlash from the group?

The Story

While on holiday in the cultural hub, that is Amsterdam, I felt it necessary to indulge in local sex work, unfortunately, due to a white-carb heavy meal, I felt I would be unable to make love to my usual standard so sadly, one lucky lady missed out on a night of passion.

“Scared, that’s what he was. White carb bullshit.”

Kit Evans
Witness