Cirque Du Enfer

I might be okay,

but I’m not fine at all.

All these shadows are singing across all my walls

and the shatter and boom of the stereo loud

my hands are shaking building a ground.

Lost in the woods this funny sweet clown

she’s manic and driven to hell she is bound.

And the words just keep slipping and teasing her tongue

Oh! the no’s that committed her don’t know they did wrong

and the light is just slipping like glass from her hands

that cup of spilled milk is now coloring sand

and the moment she twist under bed sheets a plenty

her eyes are betwixt her bodies just empty.

Oh! Lord do you renounce the faith of the plenty

where room lights bedazzle and guard towers shower

on down like the rain drops of candy clean skies?

With a whisper this jester she falls and she dies

hidden in a room filled with puzzle and art

purple blue curtains she’s alive in her ark

savior’s always dancing and laughing like demons

outside they are shadows covering the cretins.

Oh! mazes of coffee and strippers galore

the world has turned laughter into its dirty whore.

Oh! spinster’s on fire on wheels of desire

laughing like maniacs

dowse them with fire.

I’m fine,

But alright I’ll go to the slaughter

Like cattle with prods I no longer falter

Because this clown dies and I reemerge

a psych-o-clown jester with bitter for words.

(June 21 2013)


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