Sunday, 5 February 2012

Horror Film & Child

That film got me.
It colonised, then darkened, my mind.
For weeks, perhaps months, its pictures held me.
I carried it into many beds.
Into many dreams... many nightmares.

Obsessed by the brutality of it all.
Its pure violence.
The blood and the gratuitous killings
Got me. Got me good.
The cutlass’s slashes of the white shirt of a white skin.
And, of course, the blood again.
The copious blood.

These many years later, even now,
It still leaves a nasty taste.
You too-easily forget
Your prior vulnerability and inexperience.
How we are taken in.
How we believe, so easily.

Smug at this safe distance.
Forgetful of inexperience.
Only now do I see clichés.
Easy, trite horror.
The atonal dissonance
Of the hackneyed score
And the distinct lack of plot... and other filmisms.

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