Panic

By Blue1991

Mon, 11 Sep 2017
  • 1177 reads
3 comments
 

He plays a melody on my throat
A flute of flesh
Of bone
Each note
Played with breath
My pulse, it jigs
My body a band
The baton is his

He plays percussion
A beat, war drum
My beat, heart numb
I give him permission

This marching band
This stiff, clench hand
This sinking sand
Was this my condition?

There’s dread in this bedding
I count to ten
I do it again
And again
And again

A tango now slow
A waltz
To and Fro
An encore? Please no

Not this time.

 

 

Certificate 12
Poem
Surreal
Erotica
Horror

Comments

Submitted by london_calling79 on

This is excellent. Punchy and disturbing. The internal rhyme is really well judged too. The only sticking point was the penultimate line which feels unwieldy. I wanted more!

 

Submitted by Blue1991 on

Thanks! I've finished writing it, as requested. :) It was a quick idea that I wanted to get down before so it's not gone exactly where I thought it would but, I suppose, writing very rarely does!

 

Submitted by london_calling79 on

Well fleshed out. The playful rhyme and central metaphor are both quite sinister.