DieterM
08-25-2016, 09:29 AM
Finally I reach the subway corridor
familiar from so many nightmares,
a long stretch of moist and yellow tiles
gleaming under neon bars that flicker
ghoulish metamessages.
Dirty puddles fester in dark corners,
vapour creeps down from hidden exits,
the air permeated by the stale smell
of 20th century poverty, damp clothes and abandon.
That’s where your voodoo power hits me
unlike anything I could’ve predicted.
Your takeover is sudden and complete,
drains my head and limbs, my will,
leaves me under your remote control,
a wired puppet in this tunnel of fleeting instants,
this passage devoid of presence,
where everyone just passes in a hurry,
this place where stiletto-shoe-echos
seem to be forever reverberating
from floors and concrete ceilings.
You make me slam my head against the walls,
you make me gyrate and twist, then fall on my knees,
and with my fingernails I scratch
undecipherable tags into the tar floor.
I scream without opening my mouth.
At last I lie there, panting, an empty shell.
And I think I hear your laugh in the distance,
the hollow laugh of the victorous marionettist.
familiar from so many nightmares,
a long stretch of moist and yellow tiles
gleaming under neon bars that flicker
ghoulish metamessages.
Dirty puddles fester in dark corners,
vapour creeps down from hidden exits,
the air permeated by the stale smell
of 20th century poverty, damp clothes and abandon.
That’s where your voodoo power hits me
unlike anything I could’ve predicted.
Your takeover is sudden and complete,
drains my head and limbs, my will,
leaves me under your remote control,
a wired puppet in this tunnel of fleeting instants,
this passage devoid of presence,
where everyone just passes in a hurry,
this place where stiletto-shoe-echos
seem to be forever reverberating
from floors and concrete ceilings.
You make me slam my head against the walls,
you make me gyrate and twist, then fall on my knees,
and with my fingernails I scratch
undecipherable tags into the tar floor.
I scream without opening my mouth.
At last I lie there, panting, an empty shell.
And I think I hear your laugh in the distance,
the hollow laugh of the victorous marionettist.