Sparkling in the waning hours of a sun-filled afternoon, the water looks inviting. Do not be deceived: this is no bath. The water is cold. Its still surface belies its deadly charm. Like some California dream, it is all an illusion. Pretty enough to look at, but no one would dare delve deeper into such a frigid world. Do we know the day when it is at hand? Do we ever really know the day? I think we only know it when it’s gone. It’s only real when it’s over. It is safer that way.
For now, a pause to admire the prettiness of the scene. A pristine look before bodies and waves and blood pierce moonlight-stained water. A bed of liquid to break a dead man’s fall. Or a pocket of delusions to give him wings. Either way, he’s about to take flight…
The Delusional Grandeur Tour: Last Stand of a Rock Star
Next Stop: SEATTLE, WA
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