Red carpet

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Hard-pressed to give a fucking damn. Tasted my spit dry up clogging my throat and itching. Curtains from behind close horizontally signalling an end. Curtains made of black and vile red, vampiric and ethereal, smoothly slips in my sight putting my mind at ease, hypnotic. "Close your eyes and slumber," the whisper whispers. "Bring the madness to a halt."

In an amicable way I agreed and completely disregarded the goodwill that will have to follow. I will not be a puppet. The whisper appears to me a phantom, in female form and infatuation. Without any closure in sight, I closed my eyes and fell in deep sleep. "Fulfill my role and end this madness," yes, that is it. The same complaint I have been hearing for long months now. Stand out and be unique, be a powerhouse. 

I emerged a stimulant, and in the days to come my burden becomes more apparent. 

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