the standard

a promotion, a salary increase, a free ride and there comes a dance, a whistle, a glow. a demotion, a slap, a firing and the opposite happens, wilt away. got a headache? take some painkillers, got a migraine? take something stronger and a full stomach makes a happy person, a scripted play till the actor wants out when it is another rehearsal, another line, to quote someone who has already said it all before. an awakening, a slumber one watches the other till the night slips in, the midnight strikes then the applause, the mirage shatters of many lives lived, many lines repeated, many walks in the same trail - absent the awareness of a battery worn out from too much usage. there is no replacement for this fuel, none at all, it is the identity made when actors no longer do, they've become the actor with an inability to tear off that mask. stuck on the face, stuck in the flesh, stuck in the soul. it is quite perplexing really, a battery that does not light up when actors change roles.