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April 28, 2014
Tired, like evaporation of rock in a volcanoes mouth, an exhausted virility plays out its fire, dwindling tumescence, receding passion, final hurrahs in a private bloom of the black lodge, its red curtains hang heavily, brightly, a painful seduction whispers toward the vanquished bed, and the stage clears, final lines drift in the eating air, audience has fled, play offends, though the cameras flash, and behind the curious eyes wonders are created for absence despises emptiness, the images expand, laid out for autopsy, sharp lines fade, pixilated, definition fails, lights go down, and the moment's recognition fades like a dream.