Henry Fuseli - The NightmareAll those flashing coloured bulbs; the drunken music of the wurlitser; the wrinkles on the ticket seller's cheeks; the dodgems' ozone perfume - the carnival suspends all hope of ever seeing the sunrise.
You lift up a childhood rock to find the shed skins of long dead monsters there; monsters that couldn’t wait for your adult arrival. In some ways their absence is more horrifying than the fright that was their original intention. The pain and patience of their death is made null by the wind that takes their dry grey arachnidan remains and scatters them to dust like the sword swallower's dream of innocence lost.
And as the carnival moves on; oblivious of your hurts and fears; impervious to reason or logic's cold blade; it takes with it some piece of you, some piece you weren't aware you even had.
You lift up a childhood rock to find the shed skins of long dead monsters there; monsters that couldn’t wait for your adult arrival. In some ways their absence is more horrifying than the fright that was their original intention. The pain and patience of their death is made null by the wind that takes their dry grey arachnidan remains and scatters them to dust like the sword swallower's dream of innocence lost.
And as the carnival moves on; oblivious of your hurts and fears; impervious to reason or logic's cold blade; it takes with it some piece of you, some piece you weren't aware you even had.
3 comments:
Gosh, I didn't realize that somebody else in this World was deathly frightened of 'The Tunnel Of Love'ride at the carnival too.
Haha how very Freudian.
Secretly I'm more scared of the song version, 'Tunnel Of Love'. Bruce Springsteen blows and not in a good way.
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