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The Game

Let’ say you are not You, but not someone else.
Never met your person before until now… outside yourself.

You’re not a mirror too, because
there’s the mirror

and you watch that reflection so… sacrilegious, is it the term?

Flaying the skin to the fat with the same precision as to the cutting of eye–
it must be gone: all the melancholic cracks that disparage the portrait.

An impure must be cleansed has it been distorted to the critical parade.

heads,

sizes,

colors,

pedestals, obsessions, shameful or hopeful, whichever belies.

But halfway the reflection hesitates,

she stops.
Wears the skin on again and yet again remarked.

Tearing its hair out, smearing vamp onto its favorite mouth.
Fitting itself in a too tight (or too loose) nudity.

Ludicrous.

You ought to be offended.

You reutter the movie where the Rochester left:
Did you sense the same shudder you sensed?

What was it, love? Scorn? Salvation?
Here, hold this gun.

Nobody else can play this game, remember?

Now… what will you do with that? Would you do it?

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Published inOtherSorrow

One Comment

  1. first of all, you have a very interesting writing style.. its not the sort of free verse built out of mostly random stuff (which is something you can find very often) but it is also not restrictive when it comes to words, & expressions that define a writer..

    next thing, it’s very thought-provoking, & very inspiring.. & quite likely to influence my works in the future, simply because it’s such an interesting way to express oneself..

    yes, the site is pretty much ‘dead’, as you put it, which is obvious from the lack of reviews this has got, but it still could grow with just a little more activity of us members.. anyway, glad I got to read this.. will read more in the future (:

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