pitch black curtains descending like waterfalls
shake it out, shoulders back—stand tall
wait for your cue
hot fucking lights all on you
forward—right foot, left
see them clap—hear no sound (deaf)
masquerading for the crowd
block that shit out (shroud)
it's all yours
eyes, minds, mouths galore
keep it up—you're almost done
watch me talk, watch her run
hold that look until you're clear
he tells me in my ear
step to my left, drop my right hand
still on—always on-demand
pitch black curtains that never close
is this me or who i pretend to be? pose!
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Comments2
Smile! The word that always killed me in picture taking. A false front for others to see. A lovely poem of putting one's best foot forward and putting on that facade smile that tells everyone that there is a mask there. Well done
Thank you!
You are most welcome
This feels like being inside the performer’s skull mid-spotlight—raw, pressured, and beautifully disorienting. I love how the commands fracture the self, how identity becomes a pose you’re forced to hold. The ending question hits hard and honest. Strong, contemporary, and unafraid.
Thank you!
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