She existed in enclosed sets,
In scenes she would never have put herself in.
Looking out at a world she had no part in,
Trapped behind the screen in a perpetual past,
Played over and over in black and white;
The audience completely in the dark
As to the reality that involved her.
She tried to outrun the images exposed upon her conscious,
That spooled around her brain
As she went round in circles,
So caught up in herself
That she snapped;
The images flayed about like live cables,
Striking the surface with remote provocation
Causing a black out-
The audience taken aback
By such an event
They thought they’d lost the plot.
Anthony Ward has been writing in his spare time for a number of years. He has been published in a number of literary magazines including South, Word Gumbo, Perspectives, Crack the Spine, Shadow Fiction, Torrid Literature Journal, Snakeskin, and Blinking Cursor amongst others.