Borderline Poem by Pauline Fayne

Forced by the mentors of madness
to walk the nerve-taut tightrope of the mind,
I find its centre, stand
ceaselessly watching my watchers.
Sometimes they turn their heads
and look away
but I know they still see.


They cannot fail to
in this glittering world
of polished floors, windows, doors
my image rebounds, reflects
endlessly

Let them watch
I'll do nothing noteworthy.
With practise
I've found it easy
to stare at light bulbs for hours at a time
or just to lie perfectly still
as though I were dead.

Then for a time I can escape their eyes-
Some empty, some shuttered with fear
all of them staring, staring
But nothing can shut out the voices-
the endless spawning of words

In time there is no new terror
none mad, none sane,
all fears are fused
making watched and watcher,
one.