The ego, standing up and preening strutting around the stage… in the mind, waiting for laughs and applause, like a comedian,, the fool!
parading itself before spirited morticians, not understanding the need to be humbled, to be the fool, with no applause, just whips and scourging and thorny wreaths around his head
smugly self-deceived, basking in enfeebled acclaim jaundiced reviews wending their way into oblivion– an ignominious performance attended only by critics and jaded pedestrians who stop long enough to gape and spit…
a defrocked, defunct comic foolishly curled up on the empty stage floor with only the light of a rehearsal bulb throwing his tears in shadows…
the ego, a disrumpled has-been sobbing on the splintered performance place with echoes of canned laughter scorching his brain
