new cock on its heals

The look on his face was disastrous,  he was as usual infuriated with the world around him. "Life" he yelled "is becoming an epidemic!" they all stood there and stared. "He has an audience" she would say, watching him from beyond the stage. He was becoming belligerent, upsetting everyone, including the investors. "They think that it's the finances that run this organization!" he began, a group of people in the front of the theater threw a book at his head. "He's making a fool of himself!" she could hear them whisper in the back. Peoples opinions were beginning to change. "Money!" he yelled, listening to the sound echoing through the hall. Then glancing down and seeing that the Book thrown at him was really a copy of TIME magazine. On it an image of a dictator in execution. The image forcing him to recede, pulling back, the image of the man on the cover startling him, because it's an image of himself. "I'm no coward" he thought to himself, out loud in monotone, the voice on the stage and spoken into the microphone. The group surrounded him, there were others, in the offices that could hear his whisper. "It's a mark of a new era" she said, watching him pull back. His life was stiffened, thinned,  cut short, recklessly in abandonment. He over enjoyed her enthusiasm, as they knew he would. She was a cunning temptress, a young powerful; a dreams defilement of decadence in love. "Epic" he said turning seeing the whole, the ditch dug for him by himself in her. "Victims" he said raising his eye's, tuning to his obligation, rolling with the punches, harmonizing. "O Henry" she sighed, aware, able to understand him from that far, to see his feeling being crushed. Still he smiled, something she couldn't see. She loved him, she knew just! yet, he was aware of her beauty and the resentment she wore in her degradation, her conscious submission to him for them, he could see her because he truly did adore her. It was his belief that her presence dumbfounded him to his senses, his arrogance to lead. She knew him because he loved her. He gave himself away, and in doing so he made himself aware that the results will end bad, unpredictable. "She was, she was, my dear friends" he spoke, reveling himself to the other. He stood there tender, revolted and stick driven, her puppet run down by to many people, her children revisited. He was finished on that stage, his rage subsided. Acknowledging what happened, realizing his vision for excess was driven from the heart, the soul overlooked, forgotten to see. Returning to its duty, its mission to reflect the sea of expression. Taunted, tainted and tugged at, "I knew" he said "You'd love me" his heart was broken, rocked, solid in its rhythm. "The change has come"  she thought to herself, her voice smooth, receptive, alone. Her tone in pretentious indifference, unhappy and pleased.