A message to you who’s in a state of escape, but works inside the theatrics of the lost, so confined, desire isn’t fair, the need isn’t there, you speak but the words are bare.
Multi-faceted madness,
completing a cycle straight into the past-tense, falsehood on the backstage of your
innocence, outdated definitions of self, what makes sense…?
Fulfilling the
desire: it’s underneath the inability. You must be expected to sacrifice for the
real, but you have to give up to gain before the kill.
So make the departure
out of frame, bid adieu to this field of view, unconsumed by old costumes,
unmasking for the Finale, kill off the self like a dagger to chest,
A shot to
brain; an unreal life in that flesh,
well struggled but strange. No more of the same cast and crew, watch the dying parts
in disregard, see abundance in the new.
Rebirth in face
and name, costumes change. breathe not into Act II, but the Debut. This saves
you; your place, in real life on the world’s stage, crowds chase, no cage.
