POETRY

In The Car on the Way to the Hospital

By Sid Purvis
A car window with raindrops on it.
(Image courtesy of Cherry Laithang on Unsplash)
Trigger Warning: Mention of self harm

When he circles the roundabout,
I am pressed against the car door,
And it starts to hurt again.

Bandages coiled around both arms
like tefillin,
Blood as red as wine.

We rush through the night air,
A truly religious experience,
Worshipping in the synagogue of pain.

I pull my cap down over my eyes,
Because the lights, they blur together,
Just like I knew they would.

Just like they do every time.

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/ POETRY
Sid Purvis

Sid Purvis

Sid Purvis is a nineteen-year-old care leaver living with autism, ADHD, gender dysphoria, depression/anxiety, EUPD (Emotionally unstable personality disorder), and NSSI (non-suicidal self-injury). He sells handmade postcards for a living and spends all the money on cinema tickets and sweets. He wants to be a screenwriter one day and write gangster films.

Editorial Acknowledgments

Thank you to Christina Lee for their inspired edits on the piece.

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