Hysterical masses in a frenzy
eventually unnerve themselves in a fit of exhaustion.
What starts as a slightly audible hum,
gradually builds until it reaches a boisterous climax.
The orgasmic nature of a crowd
synchronizes itself to whatever is showing at the time.
No one comes late,
and no one wishes for an early withdrawal of forces.
A harbinger of fame and fortune lies in this ability
to continuously bring forth manic symptoms.
The fashionable fanfare for a King far excels that
of a pauper in proper attire.
An average plea would be ‘no contest’,
due to the certain lack of any competitive edge.
The edges being sought out of desperation
are not necessarily in the forefront.
Some folks run roughshod over the terrain,
longing to attain lovable attachments that hinder progress.
In a moment or two you will decide to please yourself,
and that will inevitably coincide with the moment
in which I start another ruckus.