Hey ghouly Pulp babes and poetry lovers! Happy Halloween! Before you go and creep up the town, read this AMAZING poem about FILTH by an awesome guest author and poetry writer, Julia Begley. Then, have a super kooky ‘n’ ultra-fun Halloween night!- xoxo, Essine, The Pulp Poetry Editor
filth is (moving house)(a list)
by Julia Begley
the cloying, sickly-sweet, all consuming scent of cigarettes in the carpet.
the mould on the walls, climbing up to the corner, hanging with
the sagging ceiling and the watermarks from the
the mess of dust and old skin cells that billow out when the mattress is disturbed – gluteus maximus, meet dust.
it’ll get stuck in your nose,
in your ears,
in your hair,
in your lungs until your body rejects it and tries to get rid of it, eyes streaming, nose blocked, snot stuck in the back of your throat, thick and sticky.
the buckled wallpaper,
off-yoghurt yellow with pits and scratches and gaping holes.
wallpaper and mould are
the sticky dust in the corners
(once dirt from outside
from the green
now rotted, infested with spores,
infested with beetles,
the old spiderweb, sagging with age
once a dew-spun beautiful creation, now a destroyed half-torn annoyance in the corner
(the spider is long dead, a shrunken exoskeleton caught up in tangled cobwebs,
drained and disintegrating)
filth is your mess of a life
not knowing where to start.
Julia Begley lives in London and spends her time either wandering around the city while drinking too much coffee or scribbling in her notebook while drinking too much tea. She also likes to dye her hair super cool colours and blogs about stuff at cashpoorliferich.com. You can also find her on her Twitter.