Showtime

"The man's idiosyncracies tugged at him,
the man's delusions hampering his progress."

And thus,
he straggled.

His tarry's an overcast one,
the rayless moon's most fond.
Being loveless and spitless,
he crumbles...no more a fighter.

The path,
a beaten swarth,
where that spirit cannot hurry,
and the legs cannot carry.

Hark..the show has merely begun...
and the crowds will cheer.

Ovation that reeks of "I despise you",
then "my" stage splashed with fuel,
"burn me...burn me...,"
the thespian's charring curtain call.

The audience's vehement plaudit,
no more blustering,
as fires consumed him,
evoking many a stifled smile.

He thought he would never catch up...
falling behind in the embers.

The immolation and the sparks that crackle,
subitaneously a revived coswain,
the cynosure of sinking petals.
above where tempestuous seas never settle.


The histrionics are never in the enchiridon. Sadly.
But there exist a door behind for those who lag.
No more meandering behind.
No more of such tortuous tortue.

Ergo, don't fret...
Oh dear! Ignoramuses, don't be upset!

No one can execrate another.
The road. The stage is all yours.
So banish The Outre Man,
who disport himself with his camera!

"Burn him...Burn him..."
How droll.

cuRRent...jer









  ¶ 10:37 pm