Do you see why the candlelight flickers in your eyes? Because there is nothing else there. There is demise in the way that you carry your smile yet it is precious, a slight advantage in offering the sense that you may be an actual human being: a fountain of desires that don't require the glamour, glitzy image, a walking spectacle, smile into the camera, pose with your posse, a deteriorating image, image, image, image, conversational interruptions, unintelligible mumbling, mumbling, the exploitive ramifications for gossip, your chariot of entertainment; Diva, princess, perched on some sort of pedestal: this montage of coke-spills, stolis after 3 A.M., another shot, another hit, another line spilling on the pages. This is a way to pretend that you can exist without caution and consequence. The world is your oyster, the world is your oyster but no meat pursed between the shells. The flickering of what is behind those eyes are as dull as dust collecting.