He led me into a dreamland
Gorging, sweet gorging with a shine
I suffocated myself twice with a plastic bag
Black and iridescent with frost
I abandoned myself thrice
I heard my mother whisper
from the single telephone wire
A delicate string above painted silver
Attempting to pull me back by my hair
from the trancelike state
Snowing with my psyche
Her lips were parted so perfectly
Still, still, so still like winter
You are a gift, you are a gift
she kept repeating, starkly
Fragmented, st-st-st-stop
I was lost in a terrified, mutant shock
What is natural and what is not?
Him, him, her
Umbilical cord
or hand
or knife
I could feel nothing but a desolate white
Third in LAU Viscom Ba Hons student, Iona Sheppard’s collage collaboration with LAU’s Ba Hons Creative Writing students. This image is accompanied by ‘Gorging’, by Beth Harrison.