Written by Alma Claire / Art by Joyce Lee

strung out;

my thoughts hang loose

on the washing line of my mind

and I sense, with sinking sickening lead,

the unravelling of the thread of time,


wrung out;

the serpent tongue twists

its way round and round the words

that burn and churn and wait their turn

to poison whatever beauty exists


stung by

my dry eyes from sleepless nights,

where I lie paralysed under the duvet cover

imagining in all its horror, the death of my mother,

as insomnia dangles over my head like a stalactite


trapped by

boxes designed by ‘them’

caught up in love triangles and then

the circular circles winding in my head;

high on the way the shapes make me dizzy with dread


strung out

and wrung out and

stung by

and trapped by…


all these things happening to me.

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Digital platform portraying contemporary conversations surrounding the realm of health from the perspective of young creatives through various art mediums.