This poem is about Sadako, the antagonist from The Ring.
It was something about the eyes, he said.
She’s not right. He wasn’t wrong.
I would sit there and watch them all,
thinking. It unnerved them.
I was only small when it started to get away from me.
My mind. It grew too big for my little self,
Found a way to escape.
Muscled Mum into Mount Mihara.
Made some things die.
It was later that I discovered my real skill.
A talent. A gift.
I could think things and there they were:
A film, a record.
If things had been different
I could have been famous.
I found myself here. Well, well.
The wrong end of a dark fall.
Smooth walls, abandonment green.
Above me a moon of white daylight,
But unreachable, obviously.
Nothing to do except shout and cry
Until the inevitable.
Death should have been the end of it
But I’ve never liked endings.
Rewind. Replay. Replace.
My mind made mischief via video.
Watch me, see what happens.
Tape over me, I’ll find a way back in the end.
It’s nothing personal.
That’s the problem.
Smooth and sheer like the walls.
One day I’ll be so bored
A flash of celluloid silver
Followed by the buzzing
of an empty screen
and the stuttering of a
broken machine trying to fix itself.