Monday, April 20, 2009
Hysteria is impossible without an audience.
Become invisible my mind tells me. You are no longer opulent, no longer inviting. The assemblage looks on, although I feel as if they are looking through me, sometimes staring into me. I feel like a mirror sometimes, a reflection of the ugliness one might feel on the inside of themselves. I adorn myself in luxury to hide the fact that my insides are as ragged as a hand me down from the five and dime. I speak in riddles so you can draw your own conclusions, sir. I am as abstruse as they come, baby. Try to figure me out. Let's just see if you can triumph. When you finally figure me out, My face will have already changed.The scalpel will have already cut deep, darling. The bandages will come undone and I will once again be a great beauty. You will never recognize who I have become.