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Sticky, sticky tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth a high wire stranger danger gripping the ridges, digging in his fingernails, his feet clawing at the thick dry bed of tongue, trying to get a foothold. My head is huge and my body is china doll small and the pills the pills they don’t work at all. Not inside my head anyway. On the outside things could be different and if I could prise my eyes open to see I’d find a mirror and look this way and that, that way and this to see if my face was blossom fresh or red scrubbed and blistered.
I roll on my side and the room rolls with me. Together we swing and I remembered the fresh wind on my cheeks and my stomach rising up and down, up and down, my legs straight out so I wouldn’t twist my ankles like Annie did.
I look down at my ankles, my feet, my toes to make sure they are safe but I can’t see them. Someone has stuck skinny white veined ankles where mine should be. And the red nobbled toes, who do they belong to not me that’s for sure. I have fine long feet, fleet feet but I can’t remember where I left them.
Her name rattles in my head but won’t come out of my mouth to play. That makes me cross, makes me determined to speak my mind but it’s over on the dressing table, next to my brush and comb and tweezers. I want to crawl there but the stolen feet flop at the end of my legs, refusing to move.
I do not want to cry but I wish my eyes would moisten a little, a splidge a splodge a delicate sprinkle of despair would do but inside my ribcage the darkness opens up, monster swallow wide, and draws in its deep cavernous breath. It hollows me out and I cry, beach cracking over bones howling pouring flooding more and more and more.
Her hand touches my face and I turn to dust.
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published 26 July 2013