THE PANTOMIME

in the hour of endless darkness,

he emerged from the haze.

with that ivory face of the moon

and his eyes ablaze...

paranoia made-up for his shoes,

in the schizophrenic cloak,

he made his ambivalent moves.

there was silence, loud...

loud and deafening.

he began to act.

he began demeaning.

scathed and battered,

the demons hovering.

the pantomime's scared!

but the fear would be redeeming.

he craved for his heart

and let it bleed in his hands.

the burial would be gory.

this much he could stand.

on his grave, he wailed...

he wailed like a lark.

tears stung my eyes

but the pantomime laughed!

from music to utter agony,

his act went on.

from churches to graveyards

and berated echelons.

he came to a standstill,

the time evaporated.

in the sure abyss of hypnotism,

i stood helplessly sedated.

his touch bore into me.

his gaze burnt my skin.

words overflowed from his eyes...

yes, the phantom would sin.

my cringe- instinctual.

his hold only tight.

'No!', he begged with his desires.

'No, you shouldn't fight'.

suspended in nothingness,

he sure walked like a gazelle.

crimson lips so undaunted,

weaving an impenetrable spell.

with the cold breath of a dead,

the words formed a mist

he only lowered into my ear

and the pantomime hissed...

in the only words he spoke, he told,

"your secrets aren't unknown".

in the breathless next moment,

he was perched on a tree.

the tangents returned to life

but the soul was no more free...