i see, in the black
studio cave of creativity.....
gangling, disinterested youth.
metamorph...
into mecurial, liquid madness...
fluid, upon the stage,
they fly, toward the lights.
moths, to a burning moon.
momentary flashes,
of. god's humour,
in flight across
the mechanical sun's
gelled brightness.
and then the curtain falls.
and they drift back,
into their former selves,
inarticalate, but secretly
smiling.
Jun 29, 2014
Jun 29, 2014 at 7:17 PM UTC
i see, in the black
studio cave of creativity.....
gangling, disinterested youth.
metamorph...
into mecurial, liquid madness...
fluid, upon the stage,
they fly, toward the lights.
moths, to a burning moon.
momentary flashes,
of. god's humour,
in flight across
the mechanical sun's
gelled brightness.
and then the curtain falls.
and they drift back,
into their former selves,
inarticalate, but secretly
smiling.
impressions of last week's practical theatre exams.
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