AN ODE TO DOREEN

Hello my names Doreen

Doreen the physiotherapist

I thought I'd like her

She smiled stating that

Together we'd get this finger straight

Our eyes locked in and we searched deep,

She into the soul of my endurance

And me into her world of ,sadistic pleasure.

You see, I knew,

Overheard didn't I,

As I sat in the waiting room,

A middle aged man rushed out

In tears, distraught panic striken

Scarlet blood seeping through his bandage

Clutching his  hand ...terrified

It's torture, pure evil!H 

He told his wife

Next! !

Next !  I turned, me?

So here I am, alone, scared and insecure,

Pictures, posters adorn the walls,

Hands clutching hands.

Painted hands with indian ink,

Hands reaching out, hands making fists

Tatooed hands...LOVE ...HATE

Foreign hands, fat hands, spindly hands,

Arthritic hands,withered hands.

Your'e all tense, She smiled as she

Loosened me fingers and pressed

And pressed and pulled

Pushed and picked

And yanked

My little finger till it went purple

Pain throbbed to my wrist

As I fell to the floor

Pick her up!

Sit her on the chair !

Relax , your all tense,

Release that ball of anxiety

There! She said, it's all nice and floppy!

Then she pressed and pressed,

Pushed and picked

And yanked

I fainted!

She slapped me face

Give her some water !

Doreen the physiotherapist smirked

A twisted warped grin!

A superior kind of a smile !

As I sipped my glass of water,

Shaking like an Autumn leaf

Do not resist me ! She raged ,as she 

Sprized and sprized and

Forced open my clenched fist ,

Inspected the palm of my hand.

The scar tissue is looking good!

Just give you a massage with ...Emery paper!!

Scrub...scrape...scrub...scrape.

Let's get rid of this dead skin!

Scrub...scrape...scrub...scrape.

There it's nearly all gone.

She took the stanley knife from her pocket,

Dug it in ...'till... my skin left the bone!

There that'll do nicely,

See ,there's nothing to fear ,

it's all in your head see you next week!

Unable to speak ,I left,

Traumatised, shaking, stumbling, weeping.

And my little finger, my little finger,

Looked at me, the f****** little purple bent bastard

Looked at me and laughed!!!

◄ The Scarf

THE TREE ►

Comments

Robert Mann

Wed 3rd Feb 2016 15:29

Christine - my wife is a physio and this sounds just like her! I can hear this being performed to an audience who are rolling about. Love it.
Rob

Profile image

Jon

Mon 19th Nov 2012 19:24

Funny,funny,funny!Love he bit about pictures of hands! x

Profile image

Isobel

Tue 16th Oct 2012 13:28

I'm hoping there's a lot of exaggeration in here for affect Chris - or you'd be within your rights to sue!

Mind you, I've seen the scars, I've seen the finger, so maybe not :)

Enjoyed hearing this at the Tudor - a great performance piece. x

If you wish to post a comment you must login.

This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.

Find out more Hide this message