supernova

played with daydreams of being stripped naked, somewhat berated, in front of way too many strangers and strangely eager faces, dire eyes, disguised smiles, hiding behind the guise of confusion; check, delusions of grandeur and profuse amusement at my unruly cantor... overture, aperture, a picture, a picture of the gap between the first movement of Ego and the chorus of Avid Imagination...

and the grand prize lies behind door number one! plastered on the wall was he, cackling thunderously, stuck up under the wondrous belief that he wasn't torn asunder and quietly choking on the silence that struck as the door flung open, exposing the contents of his soul for all to hold and weigh, insatiably gauging the purity, waiting to judge how sturdy his persona seemed and whether or not he was faking the weathered display of hope behind the faithless gulp...

shit, i shouldn't have done this.