What Happened To Theater
How connected are we really, dogs for media drama? I hear you. I feel you invent ways to delete and block my trauma. Your newest app runs on sighs and magic. Best rider ever. Dreams do come true. Sit at the table and see. I let them stab my heart with ink a million million times, just to taste how it feels. They still hear mother, God. They danced enchanted, part of the package.
I hated the stories. I wanted us to make new ones. Daring. Racy. Heart changing. So I would never read. Weaving whole futures, tiring indeed. Get ready, here comes your one line. And you threw it, now we’re both crying. Am I back on your stage yet or you still stuck on mine?
Five thousand, no ten, words a day. Purpled, bubbling brews and burning. Hey. They’ll shut us down. ‘Til then, keep crossing the mirrors for healthier hearers. Hold tight what they say. Just painting your face, like I promised. I can’t stop. I’ve ‘come addicted to plays.