The Smell of Solitude

The smell of solitude,
drowned by footsteps from afar.
My heart beating like a drum
Against my chest,
I feel the energy floating into the claustrophobic air
The smoke dazzling my closed eyes,
While the sounds start raping my ears.

The doors are open, and I realize
My vulnerability
My weakness against their eyes
Every movement counts
Every word uttered holds my destiny within its hand,
And I feel the exhilaration pumping through my veins.

My hands shiver, but I beg they won't see
I must remain still,
I must never indulge their eyes with a distraction
I must never make them realize my existence,
Not yet.

The clock ticks, and their sounds begin to dim.
I feel their existence,
I feel them floating inside my blood.
The lights go out, and I become the object of their sight.
It is time.

I wait for the moment, where I open my eyes,
I make my movement a purpose for their pleasure
I open my mouth releasing words I long wanted to utter,
And I beg my soul to deliver them truthfully,
I speak the lines they most want to hear,
And add nothing more to my conviction.

I walk knowing their eyes are scrutinizing
I speak knowing their ears are straining to hear,
And I fear their whispers as I return to my imposed posture.

I finish my words, and I walk away
Leaving the impact to take its full.
I hear their clapping, and feel their entertainment
Filling me pleasure I long wanted to feel
They cry and so I laugh.
I smile at their tears,
For I have served my purpose,
And my mission is done.
I bow to them, thanking their eyes,
And I take my leave, hope I remain
An inspiration for a minute or two...