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.

The usual.

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.

Ring ring.

It’s nothing personal.


That’s the problem.

Smooth and sheer like the walls.

One day I’ll be so bored

I’ll explode.

A flash of celluloid silver

Followed by the buzzing

of an empty screen

and the stuttering of a

broken machine trying to fix itself.

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