‘he couldn’t stand the idea that anyone else had actually
breathed in the same air as his idol in the old days…
it drove him insane that he didn’t have
his own personal vile of it that precious air
to take out of his ‘collections’
to moon and fawn over or to tenderly stroke each night
his air his own special air BESTOWED on him personally
from his MASTER’S hand!
so he turned, fangs bared
attacking other’s truths and memories stealing them as his own
as if he had the right’
this guy is simply a hustler, he wrote
he’s a bit like The Talented Mr. Ripley
tom ripley he’s a killer
mister dishonest both of them killers one of them fiction the other
deadly
he thinks he owns him like the thief who stole the body rags of jesus
rockstar