ᴡʜᴇɴ ɪ’ᴍ ꜱᴡᴀʟʟᴏᴡɪɴɢ ᴄᴏᴛᴛᴏɴ ☁︎

Blowing phallic air into rubber and looking directly at the camera.
I smell the ghosts of fast-food wrappers and wonder:
Where have all the burger queens gone?

I have no idea where your cock has been, but it looks fresh out the packaging,
All sherbet tube and bitter honey, tell me I’m your taste
when I’m swallowing cotton.

You’re a god-fearing slot machine I keep investing in and I’m out of change.
I was meant to keep some back for the laundrette. but I’m a little bastard,
a lemon tart.

god-fearing slot machine: I am invested in you
haven’t washed. no money
little lemon tart breaking the fourth wall
a clown blowing phallic air into rubber
I like the videos where people sit on cake
use a fast-food wrapper as a johnny
your burger queen’s got no idea where it’s been

(Sir, spare some change?)
(I’m a bastard)
(caught with cock in mouth)
(breathe into me)
(Penblwydd Hapus)
(keep it clean)
(fresh out the packaging)

Joshua Jones (he/him) is a queer, disabled writer & artist from Llanelli, South Wales, UK. Local Fires, (Parthian, 2023) was shortlisted for a number of awards including the 2024 Dylan Thomas Prize. He has published various pamphlets of poetry and zines, most recently I AM A MAN AT WORK (g39, 2025). His pamphlets 'Three Months in the Zebra Room' & 'City on Film' can be found in the US via Hello America Stereo Cassette & Bread & Roses Press.

@joshuajoneswrites / @joshuajonesphotos