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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1064063-Carousel-to-Hell
Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Emotional · #1064063
for RAW prompt: despair
Tattered ticket stubs
scattered around
litter the ground--
imagine the clown
on the merry-go-round.


Once a noble steed
strong and true
bedecked in flowers
with shiny hooves
and flowing mane
now a swayed back
rib jutting,
saliva drooling,
backbone piercing
old nag.


Circling round and round
And round and round
and round and round
and round
andround
and

No calliope.
No light, sprightly waltz.
Stuck record repetition--
illusive half recalled fragment
of some forgotten tune.

Brass rings tarnished.
Forever out of reach.
Black, befouled beneath
the bloody headed vulture
perched:
Watching Waiting.
Wanting--
Should the spinning cease.

Spiral spinnings
blurred surroundings
Haunted faces
Or are they reflections?
Refractions?
Refracted reflections
Fragmented.

Sideshow mirrors reflect
wild eyed one
dimensional images
caught in freeze frame.
Face whiter than bone,
eyes bruised with lack of sleep.
I do not know me.
I am a stranger.

Ahead of me
wraiths,
mere shells of themselves
each clutching that brass ring
I could never manage to reach.
I cannot catch up.
I dare not fall behind.
Pursuing me,
nightmare caricatures
on charging beasts
follow on the heels
of my deception.



Won’t stop, long ride
Can’t stop, lose stride
Round and round
Up and down
Sing-song tune
Night ‘till noon.

Can’t get off
I’ll fall.
Can’t stay on
I’ll fall.
I’m falling anyway
Everyway.

Mocking laughter rides
the nearby roller coaster
pitching and careening out over the sea.
At least if you survive
the death spiral
you can get off
at the end of the ride
tho' false bravado
hides pounding blood.

Strobe

Frozen moments
Defining seconds
Replayed ad infinitum. . .


Enflamed images careening
Past.
Sweat slicked pole
Stick fingers hanging on
Can’t let go.
Can’t stop
Spinning off
Out of control
Spinning ever faster

Hunger gnaws deep
for more than
stale popcorn emptiness
kernels of
tooth-breaking truth--
for more than sweet memories
of cotton candy fluff.

Scent of rain mingles
with well trod sawdust
coating my throat:
swallow caught in shadow.

Images ooze together
like smeared paint.
Can’t focus
Up, down
Around around
Forward backward
Doesn’t matter.
Going onward
Going nowhere.
No where to go.
Tethered on the
edge of consciousness

On the
Carousel to Hell

© Copyright 2006 Fyninstein (fyndorian at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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