Stage Violence

(2005)

The ocean coursed beneth the proscenia, and with movement forced perspective onto the crowd in lace and gold, their pearls torn from your skull. Stumble onto the stage and read your lines blank-faced into the glare of the lights. And now we call to you, Clytemnestra. Although your silhouette, deep in the alumina interned dissipates, your daughters we lie in wait — petrified like the salt in the sea ‚ chemically bound and hung by the throat in songs we've sung but never wrote. Stumble onto the stage, bleeding inside. There's no plot without matricide; we paid to see it done, we want to feel your cries in our bones, so try to make it real.