tech run with thespian transition (in between acts two and three)

When the badly-scripted boy works himself up
into Bremen pretzel fits that Ximen contortionists would be in awe of,
everyone within feeling range, a 65-and-a-half metre radius,
drops dead; electrocuted by
invisible hormone-fused diva-enriched gamma rays
carefully manufactured by silver screen & spoon.

It's in his genes but he's out of his jeans, dirty dancing
with a closet exhibitionist who was a three-eyed snail in
a past life of vice & sin.
A passing transsexual talk show host pats his head,
licks his ear and ejaculates wires & honey
all over the pulsing purgatory floor desecrated with Tia Maria and fading poets.

He's crying in the swimming pool again,
his tears laced with ethanol and tasting like pears.
His mermaid mother woud be proud of her amphibious boy
with the bulbous legs and webbed eyes.
Phantom jellyfish brush past his fictional skin & in a moment
of undigested panic, he forgets
to hunt down the secret pearls.

I guess she regrets consuming his haemoglobin,
because too much irony is bad for actresses.
& all the tampons in Wales wouldn't be enough to stop the flow
of verbal diarrhoeia that rushes forth from her gaping nebula
with all the force of a 31st-century shinkansen.
A mouth, falsely big & beautiful;
it is a forest fire that swallows and swallows and swallows
and never pauses to masticate its suspicious secret agent victims
& their toddling nitrate-loaded placentas.

If he were to win a grumpy puppet living in a garbage can,
he would carress its golden shiny bald green coarse furry head
& smile, & weep for the masses who died when the
hydrogen bomb accidentally went off on Sesame Street on New Year's Eve.
Margaret was doing her diagnostic test corrections & tapping her pen to the anarchist beat when
she was boiled to the bone & soiled to the stone;
for serious. He does not joke, maybe because
his mother lies with wealthy corpses and his only girlfriend is an alien king.
Or he might be epileptically beautiful, this golden baby boy
with a cerebellum of steel, who should quit life on reel.

- negligible fictional force, 14/7

a/n: I haven't written in something like forever, having been working on a play with a brilliant girl I've known for a long time. So, well, hello.

Child actors get exposed to too many things too early, I should think.