I spied you standing in the wings
With your hand on the lever,
Hair thick with dust clumps and splinters.
They thought you one of their own,
But I knew different.
In the night I could hear
That inner asylum of shrieks and contortions —
Your world in renovation only half complete.
Wild eyes and bared teeth,
Ready to pounce at any moment.
Strapped into the harness of insanity.
Not yours. Borrowed.
Stuck, like a test pilot in a flight gone wrong.
The single rotating axle of an intemperate smile
Drenched in fear.
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This is one to read a few times. You have created a sinister atmosphere with this piece. It certainly makes you consider who is in ‘control’.
Thank you, Chris. For some reason today I have been enthralled by darker themes. I cannot fully account for the mood, but decided to allow it to feed my creativity, rather than attempting to struggle against it. The undercurrent running through my mind as I wrote this was one of life as a theatre stage, hence the title. It took me to an unexpected place.
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This felt really cool as I said it aloud,this 1 made my mouth and ears happy,thanks
That is just wonderful. Thank you.
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Can’t decide what’s more disturbing – the words or the image! Great writing!
Thank you, Maggie. It is a rather sinister image, isn’t it? It seemed to fit well with the poem.
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