Non-Newtonian
by Lee Johnston
- I sit alone at the vanity
- The lights illuminating me
- In a square, rigid frame around my head.
- I stare at myself in the mirror,
- As the flesh begins to squirm.
- I think about how every night I go out
- On the bright stage
- Eyes full of tears,
- Smile wide,
- Lights heating up my flesh.
- I smear the makeup on my face
- In crude, exaggerated strokes.
- The tenebrous contour to sculpt my face
- And the acicular eyeliner to accentuate my eyes,
- Both compete catastrophically for complete domination.
- Pulling the costume around my neck like a noose–
- A bright pink dress
- Or a blue suit,
- It doesn't matter–
- The burial robes are now worn.
- I step onto the stage
- As the harlequin;
- The audience knows who I am.
- Their expectations are set
- For the role I will fulfill.
- They sit, watching patiently,
- eager for a show.
- But I do not know what's next.
- As they watch the unfolding scene
- I know I can never deliver.
kiss me slowly
bind my soul
contest me
by Rish C
- Soon I start melting
- Under the lights,
- Uncomfortable with the character
- Not knowing the correct choice
- In the story.
- First my hair goes,
- And then the costume,
- And then my skin.
- My complete flesh,
- All into a puddle of nothingness.
- As my skeleton stays there,
- A puddle of weird fluid at its feet,
- The audience comes
- And tries to put me back together,
- Trying to help the show.
- They mold me into vulgar curves,
- Or disgusting muscles.
- And still I stick there
- For a bit.
- I seem solid for a bit.
- But the lights heat up the skin
- The non-newtonian liquid begins to melt.
- Or maybe it melts because it was always going to.
- I do not know.
- But the shapes do not stay.
- What once was solid
- Is now a liquid.
- A gross, pooling puddle.
- I was solid
- For a bit.