Bothered By a Fake Audience's Lack of Interest

Gathered together in an imaginary room of the dry mouthed imbeciles he stands up straight and walks confidently to the podium. He speaks. With each vital point of argument he pounds his fists onto the podium with such deft and decisive blows they almost shake the room. Complete command, the fools are hanging on every word the thickest of threads that weave tighter and stronger with each syllable. Lording over the world soon he will take it to the street, a vainglorious day dream of total revolution in the utmost favor of some unworthy narcissist. He day dreams of being a victor and a fucking sexual stallion, he presses out his chest and tries his best to shout with authority. Years later dying and shitting his pants remembering the day dreams passing on into the next world he allows just one tear of deep sorrow that is saltier than the goddamn ocean... you are a fucking fool world.