Red light is on, record, record!

The mirrors were frosted glass in elliptical patterns:

an ice rink of miniscule proportions--

The mirrors were frosted glass in elliptical patterns:

the worst victims of our endless winter.

Our reflections have disappeared,

we must be ghosts now!

Our reflections have disappeared,

I hope this winter never ends.

And don't you say,

"You are the prettiest thing I have ever seen,"

because I am faceless,

and you are nameless.

And don't you say,

"You are the prettiest thing I have ever seen,"

when the morning comes,

we'll just retreat to the closet,

to have breakfast with each other's skeletons.

When the morning comes,

neither of us will remember a thing!

We'll run to our vanities, 

to find an answer--

but the mirrors are frozen over;

we can't see a goddamn thing--

So we lift our pens as our paintbrushes

to hide behind our words:

personalities of mixed media paintstrokes,

faces of typewriter script:

Our words could never be spoken;

at most a whisper,

if silence is unbearable,

at most a whisper--

We bury our faces,

just at the thought.

But our ribbons run low,

our scripts run out of lines:

with the spotlight on,

we are nothing but cowards.

I shake in my skin,

you shiver between your bones:

our reflections have disappeared,

we must be ghosts now!

Red light is on, record, record!

When we can't remember,

the film surely will.

But the film, it tears,

the sun fades scene after scene,

and my memory fails the both of us:

keep rolling, keep rolling,

we can't miss a thing!

"You are the prettiest thing I have ever seen,

I have ever seen,

ever seen,

ever seen."

Rewind, replay, rewind, replay:

we awaken again,

and don't know ourselves.

Rewind, replay, rewind, replay:

we type new lines,

to hide behind--

Do you think art could save you now?

We type new lines, 

to hide behind--

Do you think you could save me now?

Do you think you could save me?

Red light is on, record, record:

On the edge of their seat,

the audience awaits our resolution--

will we ever find an answer?

On the edge of our seats,

we await our fate,

will we stay like this forever?

The mirrors were frosted glass in elliptical patterns:

they will never tell us who we are.

Our ribbons run low,

our scripts run out of lines--

with the spotlight on,

we are nothing but cowards,

we are nothing,

we are nothing.

Reviews

[siri]

I dont think you agree with yourself. you really dont limit your thoughts because your poems are organic,new, innovative. you can not be limited to create a poem like the one above. it is simply amazing! High Five!!!

[Jim Lozkittle]

Absolutely amazing, enjoyed this poem fully, beautifull

[JC]

you are a freight train, you burn and spread the flames. fantastic, i wholly enjoyed this.

[TadKent]

Repetition at it's best! Favorite line "we'll retreat to the closet, to have breakfast with each other's skeletons." This is beautiful, lots of imagery, but not the usual typical stuff. Love it. :)

[Tia Sanchez]

Indeed; this poem is amazing. Like a swirl of thoughts, rolled into a poem. Great read.

[The Rock And Roll Cowbo..]

Oh my this poem kept my riveted throughout... I found it spiraling through the complexities of everyday emotions, like fear and anxiety as we contemplate things we've done and think of what we should have. Excellent piece of writing.

[Coyote Poetry]

Poem is amazing. The internal story was so strong. I like the pace of the words. The only people that can be saved are the one's who want to be saved.
I like the tense and desperate feel in your words. A outstanding poem.
Coyote