A
brilliance of light, hot piercing needles, bright—he stands beneath them
Light and
heat, the weight of it burns him, sets his Id on fire
Illusions
burst, worms of confusion slither and hollow his belly
Amplified
voice barely audible, echoes resounding
A pounding
inside his head, bells peeling alarm, tinging with dismay
The shaking
begins, the axe, a tangle of strings and chords
Plucked
into order, the audience in agape, settle in their seats
Wait for
the music, Dionysius, fraught expectations
He dreams
of the tortoise, the desire of seclusion, seeking an escape
To be, and not
to be, the enigma trapped between poles
Torn apart
by fear, the strains of desire, discord as the pressure mounts
Flee for
the dark of an anonymous pool, cool serenity
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