
A book rests open in hand, but thick hazel eyes stare blankly at the familiar words. It’s a prop, and he acts, off stage as he does on. The line between professionalism and reality is so blurred by now that one might not know whether his life consisted solely of a performance, or if his showmanship on stage was just Jon. Just over the top, brutal, drug (lightly) addled, popularity obsessed, blood thirsty Jon.
Lips part to scold, though he watches from the corner of his eye, hoping, praying, for that ‘ please ‘.
“ Show’s not on today kid, I’m not going to do a trick for you. “ Persist, he’d silently beg over and over, oh please persist and feed my swollen, fat, ego.