Psycho – Alfred Hitchcock: Cinematic Still Frame
MIRROR OF ME
George A. Larkins
Reflection of judgment, you mirror me.
Bird eyes penetrating what I was then , glassy, vacant, watching, waiting and not unlike you.
Always within me, controlling, consuming and devouring all that she has she created.
Your fear stems not from the blade, the slash, the stinging strings.
Nor the draining dead eye circling black into the murky depths of unknown. The hole of horror inside your soul.
The breaching of some primitive divide is the darkness that sings to you. Rocking and swaying in the way she once held me.
Disruptive spheres of masculine and feminine culminating in psycho-sexual fury. Punishment comes to one who dare stand in her light.
Mirrors of internal conflict trapped within circling shards of the maternal profane. I am within her as she is in me.
Voyeur along in my deed and filth and stupidly assume that you remain unsoiled. For you become the she, the I, in our world of black blood and white terror.
All the while she spreads her inky black stain within the mind you call sane. There is no resolve, no happy ending to the tale.
Claw at air as you struggle to escape her trap. Her limbs shall enfold you as a vine creeping around your spine. It is Mother who decides that you may not leave or go free.
A maze with no end, a lock with no key. She is a mirror of you, She is a mirror of me.