Intermission has failed me.
A trip wire was not part of my blocking-
It left me on my knees.
Broadway lights, turning off with a loud
An empty stage, where the greats have lived and breathed.
An empty audience.
A sweaty nightmarish vision.
Profesizing a future of microwave meals and cubicles.
It’s hard to ignore a sign.
Corporate hell, holding me hostage for the entirety of my life.
Suicide at 27.
Perhaps another great one.
Reaching far, but the chair slips out from under me-
I almost had it,
I dangle from the ceiling.
An outstretched arm, reaching desperately for a franel.
The curtain call is cancelled.