Peter Pan Syndrome


in an eggshell bedroom painted unicorn blue

in the carnival cave beneath the bed

he chopped off each branch as it grew towards browning

into a grown-up man. his Mother

called him for supper, but she dared not brave

the scarves of gibbon-songs streaming from corners

of his ceiling, nor the forest

of pinching crab-soldiers

strewing his floor.

there in his eggshell

bedroom painted unicorn blue

he axed off the flesh and bone as it sprung

as it tried again, once or twice, from his young

shoulders: the forested legs, the ganglion arms

the humiliating protrusion – a useless, fireless torch

between the thighs – no mercy, he sliced that off too

and when his scream in soaring over

the crevasse of



dipped, its feathers craving a taste of the low waters

that whisper between walls of baritone-tenor,


the knife went to his mouth

the vocal cords gutted as if preparing to fry a trout –

and when

they placed the coffin six feet underground

before the dirt followed you could see

his lips blood-sparkled, upturned in a near


which should have been




Image credits in order of appearance:

Public Domain,

By HumMelissa_Glee – Peter Pan – Magic On Parade, CC BY 2.0,

J. M. Barrie (as Hook) and Michael [Davies] (as Peter Pan) on the lawn at Rustington, August 1906. By Unknown, presumably Sylvia Llewelyn Davies –, Public Domain,


2 thoughts on “Peter Pan Syndrome

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