Themselves Death Of A Thespian
the sun
the sky
the music
the people
the one...
they've all come for the movement and offer silence
make them stand...
the make believe me trubador
and his visceral ties to patronage.
a flame in the harsh ritual of theater...
scrutinies pierce vulnerable poise oh so helpless...
to hide this gasp, the curtains devil crimson eats
valor
and dazzle of my play acting, mystery stiffens...
embelished my guilded embarassment...
must i dwindle in the pixie fine light heart of
pageant...
decay...decay...decay...
fair self you taunt the plush maternity of legend...
it is yours to extinguish...
it is yours to endear...
pretend...the night sky
the interpretive day
disguise...forced, so devout and rarely felt...
perspective...dripping with a masterless man...
desceptive pleasuring want...so genuine...
i'm desire the incredible beggar, warm in and of my
costume...
we lay and touch legs for flesh pedalling...
for tortures of queens and the staffs that make them
whole...
appreciate the cruelty is why...
guilt a censor becoming...of broad axe and blood
spray...
wish is choice hollow...obey...
our war is but to entertain.
you see me close them catch light and...pulse through
stone.
heave for me and my bossom...your weird prostitute...
hold them deep...capturing breaths...
among a one shall never hunger in the vile of savage
bath again...
to this i give all to one...to have...
my pieces...shrieking stolen...fallen...a flicker in
craze...passing away.
in fulfillment it did roll...and it was shed...
clenched forgiving about its hilt...they
the iron life's work tears still through...
clean through...deadly...drove into the wood block...
a gash gathers...the muscle...the bone...the severed...
halts and forms a pool to end in...and it flows...
and one tear falls...in the silence they are wide
open...
empty and still giving...
