Archive for March, 2011

i tired of the pomp and circumstance

and my need for constant costume changes

i tire of the polite audience

and their apathetic opera clap

this show is neither starring you

nor is it bound with dedication

the tears that smear my perfect paint

they come from my boredom

and my madness born of this monotony

the script has been long since abandoned

this is me

ripping away this frock made of cheap indifference

no longer am i bound by stings much like a puppets

i am front and center

no longer my own under study

the house lights are up

the walls are crumbling

and the score  would insult the definition of cacophany

yet all your bloody mouths taste of me

and  i am your intermission treatsie

and as i dribble down your lips

as i churn in your innards

i am poisoning you

with the presence of truth

i am starving you

with the absence of facade

i am choking you

with the fat honesty of my being

and as your hearing fades

with the screams of my liberated soul

your eyes will burn

your guilt and lingering ignorance will bury you

as you lay among the rubble

blind

deaf

gasping

 i shall not ascend like a phoenix

i will devour you

piece by necrotic piece

and shit you into the depths that i only just escaped from

this will be a tragedy to no one  

this will be the comedy found in your folly

i will walk away

donned in blackness

and finally be free

for im finally left to self

there will be no encore this time

the fool is now the playwright