lord knows i am a girl who keeps herself inside herself. i am covering my
skin from head to toe despite the fact i was never told my wrists were a sin
merely because it is cold i promise. it feels good to see small cuts and
scrapes on my ankles and elbows. i would never make them myself.
something is spilling out of me that i cannot contain. it is hot and
overflows like soft liquid gelatin warming my face and reddening my eyes.
if i swallow my own hands they can’t hurt anyone. so much washes over me
i cannot stomach anymore but i will keep drinking. tepid bathwater leaks
from the corner of my mouth staining the bedsheets inviting duckweed and
mosquito larvae it isnt red or pearly white yet it clings to the black powder
coat nonetheless. i carry an overflowing cup in my two hands. my balance
has always been remarkably poor. i feel good so much of the time. so many
somethings exist in the ventricles and empty hollow spaces in my chest. if i
keep my crying to the office when other people work from home nobody
will hear me. i don’t know why i cry when im happy. i don’t know why i cry
when i’m happy. my hands are cold and cannot move dextrous but i’m going
to keep holding this cup. i bite my lips until they scab and pull the skin off
til it bleeds and the selfish beast i am will still expect you to kiss me. when
you smile like that i want to tangle you inside my ribs and never let go. i get
clear saliva on your pillow when i sleep next to you but i still ask to do it.
brackish saline sits behind my teeth at all hours. i am being so good about
this. i wish i could sew my chest closed and keep the stitches neat because it
swings on broken hinges keeps falling open. it’s gross. it’s gross. it’s gross.
i’m tired. i don’t wish things were different. i wish it felt like anything
when i hold myself. all i can feel are my nails. i’ll spit it all up into the sink. i
have to let go of your hand at some point i know my fingers are cold but
may i please have five more minutes.

josephine whittock (she/her) is a horror and weirdfiction writer based in the west coast. her work has been published in Arkana, bodyfluids, HAUNTER Review, and Speak the Sojourner. she enjoys spooky games, baking for her friends, and contemplating what it means to be a digitalgirl. you can find her at @words.by.jw on Instagram.