Red

I'm going crazy

Beneath my skin;it runs.
The color red.
A harsh caress and a tremble;
it might swerve.
The invisible ants marching on my floor
look red.
The bed immersed in red; the blanket too.
Untouched red roses everywhere.
Tossing their heads 
with hope;into blossom.
yet, wilting away in sad frail.
A hoarse smile arises.
Under the bed cover, I crawl.
the redness is spreading, faster than a mob,
encroaching the lines of servitude.
In silent screeches, it cries.
'I want to be heard'

Only a stranger hears it
and pictures it; red.

Reviews

[...]

... oh ... this is absolutely gorgeous and stunning ... you paint a poem with immaculate ease and the colour red ... the caress ... the tremble ... the bed ... the blanket ... the roses ... hoping to blossom ... yet the sad frail ... the smile ... the bedspread ... the redness spreading faster than a mob ... servitude ... silent screeches ... and the stranger hearing it ... all of it make a stunning oil painting ... amazing images ... some of them so terrifying in their sadness and so poignant ... this is a rare treat for the soul ... so red ... so ravishing ... beautiful poetry ... amazing ... (highest rating) ...

[Ed Hart]

or, of course, you could be going crazy

[the_stoic]

bravo !! i was reminded of the movie "grudge" .. the way the ghost crept up ! loved the last few lines ..

[James Paulin]

You have implied multiple applications with the multiple connotations of red. The poem is tactile, visual and perceptive. My thoughts on what the theme is suggesting might well vary considerably from another reader and that is perfect for many poems.