Drowning in the white
waters of his own rage,
He stared a vacant
stare that could never
give light - only drink it
like a barren desert
growing desperate
for a few drops of rain.

That kind of stare can
only look inward
toward the stinging
and distorted
memories -
never peering out into
the suger-coated  
sub-reality (the
monotonous practice
of model living) -
his vision obscured by
the traumatic scenes
of a nightmarish movie
playing in repetition -
bearing down on his
consciousness and
becoming all the more
vivid and consequential.

The contrast of her
soft-spokenness seems
to mock him - and so
he rages..