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• Artiste: Primary Directive
• Titre: The Lead/Sunset
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act 1- performance that they'll never forget and every second of suspense is a lit cigarette that burns both ends, hopelessly focused, a kamikaze longing for a little clemency, a hint of camaraderie inaudibly bradcasting appeal to the world even with a million mics, can't appeal the girl he appears to unfurl and hovers the stage every sip of suicide loosens the locks on the chains he's talking deranged- call it the charm of dependence the pain of recent times a sign for needed repentance ending the minute he's pursued, pursuit of another replacing true love with a lover and deep under cover, not really aware of the reason seeking the company of strangers, not these people who need him he makes friends, makes friendships, makes-believe the role of creator assures he's playing the lead arrives promptly to the set try to memorize the part so he won't forget but he's known for ad-libbing at times with a tendency to step on lines he's in the lead but for what, a disaster? the direction doesn't state what he's after he's in the lead but for what, a romance? the production doesn't offer a chance act 2- in which we see the conflict is heightened although our hero isn't shaken nor frightened the impending conclusion presents a challenge reminiscent of past days the last phase, all-consumed by a trapped maze and that way, he could stay unnoticed, unheard obey the blocking, read the script by the word eventually, his diligence led to monotony and constantly noted on ways to play the action properly coupled with costars who considered him their property turning his artistic achievement into a mockery made him regret all the times he motivated and shared with her but in the end, it helped develop his character so now he swears by the aid of an actress despite the fact that it's been years since he's practiced he'll make it up- the craft of acting takes will and determination one day, he'll find someone to embrace him arrives promptly to the set try to memorize the part so he won't forget but he's known for ad-libbing at times with a tendency to step on lines (his own lines) he's in the lead but for what, a romance? the production doesn't offer a chance he's in the lead but for what, a satire? the writing ridicules the desire you can't say that we didn't try turning a "you and me" into "us" before we split like a "Y," I pull the shades, take a glimpse at the sky every time the sun sets, it genuflects a goodbye now we never had a formal farewell electronic correspondence- kiss and do not tell don't well up all the facts, the brass tacks are gratuitous although a part of me secretly wishes that the two of us could've made it- or made the time or made the effort essential to swallow pride and see the greatest potential instrumental to the downfall was latent autonomy from previous relation declines, like the economy honestly, intuitively, I was withdrawn and you were too engaged to respond or maybe it was all just a case of wrong time, wrong place but it's useless to me now that you're gone