pinging in a scene
pleading for release
clinging eyes
hypnotized
and
possessed
by relief
the slick hand
clutches
the
pleasure stick
fingers
slipping
and gripping
for a prick
of peace
lost
in the dance
entrenched
in the trance
the pawn fumbles
slick hands
with trembling palms
no sense
of calm
bound
by tangled pants
limbs quiver
as if controlled
as the hidden force
plays his soul
never full
always craving
hanging by threads
force fed
on ritual dread
tapping to
the tune
of his
master’s song
longing to be
freed
yet
singing along
imprisoned by
invisible pain
chained to
the chase
subsumed
in its taste
when the
climax
concludes
the hollow figure
is released
cords loose
hunger
ceased
the show has played
the production ends
the stage darkens
the light fades
alone
he sits
his hands
on his knees
numb
to the world
of empty seats
No deal
is sealed
without
its strings
If this echoed in your soul, leave a word, share a thought, pass it to another who might need the spark, and help spread the stage of this work.
About this poem:
The idea for Puppet Show came to me while hiking in Estes Park, Colorado, on Monday, May 12th. As I descended back to camp, I kept thinking about how, at the height of my addiction, I felt like a possessed puppet, pulled by invisible strings into a ritual I didn’t want to perform. I wrote the poem that night by the fire, laying in my hammock under a full moon that stared eerily through the trees. For anyone caught in the silent tug of struggle, may this spark a shift in how you see the way forward - untethered and unchained.
This is such vivid and visceral writing! It tells the truth with boldness and gentleness. Love your work brother!