my pain moved in — new to the house but familiar — he strolled down the hall with the swagger of an agent on inspection day, tutting at the artworks, the bourgeois trappings — presaged by a turn in the bone or a slip of cup and lip — he says: I’m way different — even his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream (or screen) — waking way past midnight – dialling anyone’s number — pick up, pick up, pick up— muzzed in the kitchen with brandy and ibuprofen — each second announcing each second’s progress — towards day when appointments can be named and fugitive journeys on buses — my pain cries: you think of abasement, of lying supine waiting for medicine’s deprecation — says: I’m your pain, don’t look away — I have secrets only you will understand — I am the ante-room to the palace — and at the end of this, at the end…
Image: Photo by Cindy Tang on Unsplash. 144 words for Dverse where Bjorn is hosting and asks us to include the line “his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream” from Maya Angelou’s poem Caged Bird.
And this week I’ve been listening to the marvellous mournful Sarah Davichi with Pale Bloom
Love this one Peter
Sent from my iPhone
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Oh, wow. Great personification of pain – an unwanted, badly behaved guest, bringing threats and fear with him. I hope this isn’t true, and if it is true, I hope he moves on soon. Really pulled me in.
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I woke with a thumper of a headache this morning (barometric pressure changes), and I thought, yes indeed, that’s pretty much sums it up.
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As ever thanks – and hope the day eases for you.
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A very good line…. I’m your pain, don’t look away — I have secrets only you will understand…
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Let us all hope this is flash fiction. It’s a wonderful portrayal of pain becoming all-encompassing.
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To think of pain as a person, as the familiar bully drinking your booze… love the whole imagery, but I would fear that migraine man more than death itself.
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Gorgeous piece of polished bone describing the nights that won’t end, Peter. So the palace: one steps out into empty space I imagine, because that, that will be better. Too relatable, a glass of Pinot Gris now.
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