Stuart Turton

Pity’s a fog to become lost within.

“What does a child who has everything want?”

More, just like everybody else.

desperate for theater, but terrified of the star

desperate for theater, but terrified of the star

desperate for theater, but terrified of the star

A face is a mask of another sort.

A face is a mask of another sort.

Society’s a dance darling, and I’m too old to take part.

Too little information and you’re blind, too much and you’re blinded.

I’m melted candle wax, formless and spent, waiting for somebody to scrape me off the floor.