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The Spotlight.

His saliva starts the painful
through the Sahara,
As he swallows.

It’s his time.

He stands behind the curtain,
Frees his hands
of awkward

He makes a fist and bites it.

He can hear them.
Their chatter
to a drone.

They’re waiting.
Desperation in

He can smell it. Taste it.

For he is their Mecca,
Their chosen God of worship.
He belongs to them.

Not the sickness, though.

The lingering sickness
that petrifies his will,
Is his
and his alone.

It never leaves his side,
Never falters.
Constant in its entirety
and yet
always new.

The curtains slide,
Stealing his shield,
Taking his darkness
with them.

And as he is blinded by
the spotlight
and the sporadic flashing

He takes a moment to teach
his lungs.
To find his heart and make it beat again.
To spawn an ego of epic proportions.


He somehow sets his fingers over
the strings,
Closes his eyes.

He strums the chord.

Makes the sound
that awakens
the beast.

It stirs, oh how it stirs.

A sea of faceless screams
Acknowledge him,
Encourage him.

Power him.

And so
he stands right there,
Glowing in the spotlight,
Just like before,

Shooting stars.


About GinAndTulips

Gin and Tulips; The home of the frolicking G&T Lovers. Come in, pull up a comfy seat and make yourself at home. And if you like it. Join us.

8 responses »

  1. That is a very powerful piece.

  2. myabsolutefragileessence

    Whoa!!! Love it, love love love it! Thanks for sharing. Please keep writing.

  3. Sounds like you can put yourself in almost anyone’s shoes and tell their story. Good job, is this someone you know who performs? Thanks!

    • I like to imagine how it is for people, different characters…try to feel what they feel. I don’t think I know anyone who would feel this way…just a, ‘what if’ kind of thing…
      And; you’re always welcome 🙂


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