“Missed the point entirely!” wails the heaving Speaker, at once overcome by arrhythmia amid a hallucinatory swirl of publications past, all a rising mirage; a phantasmagoria encircling like a haunting halo around the sad relics of a frenzied mind (so our non compos mentis Speaker fantasizes). And before her eyes, this conjured corona, rimmed with paper peppered in thought (symbol of a cloistered incline) cascades brusquely into a thudding puddle of dust—yes, a feverish fall; she faints: a not so final collapse.
Her eyelids flutter open in the dead of night, and following the blissfully fleeting moments of befuddled wonderment, the echoes of slander begin to meander forth—first as hollow shocks akin to the opaque dream-images of a life past, and then in shocking waves that pulse to amalgamate auditory hallucination; granting depth to the settling of an unsettled, encroaching sense:
“Missed the point entirely! Missed the point entirely!”
Thus following this histrionic swoon, our unnerved Speaker installs herself on a perch afore the shocking white of a luminescent screen to face her foe—assassin of character; bringer of woe . . . .
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