The Performer

Hi, nice to see you. I’m doing quite well thanks for asking. And yourself? Well that is simply fascinating, you should save that story for dinner parties! ‘Kay I’m gonna go now bye. Be sure to tip the bartender for me.

one facade to the next, not even thinking to rest

Thank you so much for calling this hotline of underpaid workers to help you with something or whatever, this is The Performer, how can I help you? Shove these papers up my ass, you say? Well, it wasn’t really in job description but hell, half the crap I do around here isn’t in there either, so why not? Clocking out, see ya tomorrow.

The cell phone lights up.

Before another fresh coat of paint is plastered by an invisible makeup team on to match the appropriate human emotion expected in whatever situation The Performer finds themselves in

there’s a notion of despair
about how many layers can be caked on
before the foundation implodes?

Yes, I love you too.

and what face would be underneath?

maybe something to closer thine higher self

Oh save me Buddha !
Jesus!
Krishna!
Leviathan!

*phone static*

a choir sings from above:

**”Come to me

Ravish me

I’ll liberate your mind”

Hmm…

Oh Great Whatever you are, how much more proof do I need to show before you believe I’m ready?

In this human kind, this condition, the mind can handle so many questions at once
to find a tailormade suit that fits only them

caught in the limbo

with a daunting glance, The Performer has no chance
to ponder about what could possibly free them from

Another coat, another color

The clock moves on, matter of fact

so on to the next Act





**reworded song lyrics from “Anna Stesia” by Prince

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