Wednesday, June 18, 2003

Tears of a Clown

If there is a smile on my face, it’s only there to fool the public. The unsympathetic vultures circle overhead in attack formation, ready to swoop in and pick at my beleaguered bones. I am unable to comfortably sigh because the anemic circus clown stole the last few emotions that I had saved up and hid in a small leather pouch that I was given many many, years ago. That was swiped along with the last few inklings of my delicate sanity, which has wavered back and forth between calmness and chaos. The calm, warm feelings of long walks down white sandy beaches, with crystal blue waters slowly rolling up along the shore, soothing my weary feet as I walk next to a faint image of someone I was in love with once, a long time ago, are now a faint dream peppered with unclear thoughts and faded memories. The chaos trickles down from overhead. First, a couple of droplets hit the now expanding bald spot on my head. Then the once steady rhythmic and hypnotic downfall accelerated into a messy downpour. My entire body is now soaked and if there were a smile on my face, it was only there to fool the public.

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