Epileptic
By kate emily
Mon, 17 Sep 2012
- 521 reads
3 comments
The strip lights
triggered it-
your stubborn jaw
locks a dangerous tongue.
Injured insect,
horrid tickle, twitching
on the floor
of Superdrug.
Your muted screaming
voices in the flame of your fit.
Vulnerable curl,
you ball into a fist
clench for survival;
accordian limbs
concertina in,
you're a fold up chair,
ten rigid fingers
with electrified tips,
starfish hands
into a baby's grip,
foetus, fossil,
sudden stone.
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Comments
really well written account
really well written account and an eye opener to what this must be like to witness or endure. excellent stuff.
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you're a fold up chair,...
you're a fold up chair,... favourite line.
This is beautiful.
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This could be written by the
This could be written by the victim- I am sure..
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