‘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