the thespian

the patter of rain
are little drumrolls in this theater
presenting in blinking lights,
my pain;
the curtains unfold, finding me on centerstage

the lone actor
basking in the spotlight of anguish and rejection
spoke his lines
and sonnets of deep inside
but words won't come out
drowned by the jeers
and cheers of his defeat

and i reeked of melancholy, of rotten tomatoes
waiting for the afterglow