The passer by denies my existence with the confidence of their gait, the steadiness of their gaze. I peel back layers of skin to show the shining mess, but each time I’m swallowed by earth – which in case you’ve forgotten is cold, full of dead, sharp things. It’s like fucking an iron maiden –… Continue Reading ‘Bus Stop’ by Matt Alton
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I woke up a wilted roseMy petals were crusheda thousand tempestsMy thorns turned inwards striking my stemWorms crawled all over meYet my roots were intact – by Angelina Bong More works Malaysia
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Welcome to my evening. I would love to simply kiss my husband goodnight and doze off. TURN OVER, I have taken my evening medication, all six of them. TURN OVER. My husband starts his evening purrs, just his rhythmic tiger sounds use to aid me to slumber. TURN OVER. No more can I find that… Continue Reading ‘Night shift’, by SpinalPain
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It came to visit last week. No warning at Three am. One turn in my bed and here it is. Stealing my long breaths. Grasping the hand rail, I try to turn on my side. The red-hot cattle prod steals my spine. The pain splinters through my nerves screaming. One, two, three jabs in seconds,… Continue Reading ‘Unwanted visitor’, by SpinalPain
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Punch views images from the lead-lined room of hunched, misshaped bones. Punch dances round the room – head on a pole, chest iron-maiden bound with extra spikes, hips a claggy crucible, wooden knees. Mismatched red socks sneak past frozen feet, up past stiffened ankles. Punch plays St Sebastian. Punch is put to the rack —… Continue Reading ‘Punch Views His (A/S) Body’, by Phil Hawtin
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There is a snuffing out when the synapses stop firing. The ex-wives fade to black. His hawks blink. Extinguished. The Co-op, Jesus, trains and snow glimmer. Cut. Planets spin off the axons. Our kisses are ashes blown to the wind. He lies alone, like a great house with all it’s furniture moved out; windows smeared… Continue Reading ‘Stroke’ by Lizzie Heath
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Too young to understand, Too scared to stay by RachDoesDesign Wales [The image features a form with chaotic hair spanning the entirety of the piece, lines and dots show the chaos of the mind]
‘Too’, by RachDoesDesign Read More »
I am your pain. Like Puck; quicksilver, impish, mischief-making. You’re easily fooled, you make my nonsense real, you feel what is not true. I stab and prickle, or transform into A metal straitjacket, squeezing your foot, your leg. Imprisoned. Around each toe, elastic bands pulled tight. You call me neuropathy; I say there’s no such… Continue Reading ‘TWENTY FOUR SEVEN’, by Hedgehog
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She stands uncertainly inside the cubicle, exposed to light from a dozen UV tubes. Machinery hums softly, the seconds tick away. A narrow slit connects her to the outside world. Friends have seen her skin, inflamed and bleeding, her swollen eyelids. She hasn’t mentioned synapse pain, the 2am, 3am, 4am explosions waking her, holding… Continue Reading ‘PHOTOTHERAPY’, by Angi Holden
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The skin I wear The skin I wear is a covering for my bones and flesh and I’m glad it holds it in but wonder sometimes why and sigh about the pain I’m in. It’s not as if I’ve fallen or didn’t watch where I was going, I was plodding on quite well I thought… Continue Reading ‘The skin I wear’ by Wendy Jones
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