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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It’s 2am and my body is on fire. Every cell is boiling. Sweat creeps from my pores. It only takes a moment to soak through my favourite t-shirt, then through the sheets and mattress covered in yellow imprints. I can’t get any fucking sleep. This happens to me every night, up to ten times. Then… Continue Reading ‘Premature Ovarian Failure’, by S. L. Shuter
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A rookery, long abandoned now, had been built inside my body. I don’t know where the birds went or why, one day, they uninhabited, leaving only their barbed-wire residues, strung across the boughs of my hips; all sticks and spit, all hollows meant for holding something small, still desperately alive. I’m sorry – I’m afraid … Continue Reading ‘The Diagnosis’, by Roseanne Watt
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