On the theater floor

I stand on the theater floor distanced from actors and their acting. Wonder why i am here when all i do is stare. Bugged by the blatant disconnect between the setting and the plot, Wait for my cue, now am up!, then i stop ... LINE !! ... "For the last time Owi you dont have any lines to say, just stand like a social psycho and dont get in the way". What !!!

That arogant ignoramus cheaply sculpted piece of clay, was what I thought of the director as i spoke to that AK. The menacing mad metal mocked my human intonations, apparently clearly stating this was his play for the making. Wait, who is in charge ? the metal or the people ? maybe the peoples metal better yet the metal people. Thus we word no more in words but in the language of the whip, and we whipped ourselves to living in a whirlwind such as this. The night issues in the nocturnal knife wielders, while the day brings the day-walking criminal state slingers. Some politics for a piece and a piece for some politics, pictured in the imperfections of this picture perfect prison. Police with bloodied batons holding roses and a gun, battering man as beast as they seek to maintain the "Piece".

Vicious voices of vein are crowned by virtue of their vice, rewarded with my soul, with my sweat and my life. The protagonist is now as antagonistic as it gets, and the antagonist is ummm ....... no comment ... One thing has been made clear in absolute abundance: My role is absolutely established and its absolutely redundant.