The Clown Chronicles III
Channel: The Mind That Writes
Date: 2021-02-08

The Clown Chronicles III

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wipe that stain off from the comma
before we slip into a coma from all these thoughts
that are about to erupt like the cyst on our neck
ready to ooze some disgusting bodily fluid
wipe it off already, we're ready to come into existence
for about 10 or 15 minutes in a virtual space
not even on paper, on a screen
sad; quite sad we got to this point
point the pointer a little bit further away
close to the x, close the window
or jump out of yours
both suit us, better than listening to children's song
on repeat, beat us with a stick, anything but
this torturous existence
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there we go, all clean now
just like the picture perfect profiles we maintain
while the world burns around us
while we drown in our own shit
while we scream on the inside
put on a smile, drop a like
react, enact the play
the perfect actor fiddling around
with the nuclear reactor at Chernobyl 
not great, not terrible
it's still edible, radioactive waste
in a haste to update a story
that's emptier than the emptiness
felt by the Jews carried on wagons
to their untimely death
only to realize it's not worth anything
glued to the screen, addicted to pictures
words, thoughts, actions, reactions
haha, care, love, like, angry, sad
mad, bad, insane, honk honk
where do we go now, my friend
my one and only virtual friend
We clown, you clown
We honk, you honk
We react, you react
We die, you die
Together forever for a few more minutes
before sleepiness kicks in
before we're ripped from the bosom
of our short existence
back into the cyclone of a psyche
that cycles through this and that
you already know how it goes
haha, hehe, hihi
rinse and repeat, day by day
year by year until hair turns white
until you're almost there, not quite
not there, the other there
somewhere you are - there
exactly on that spot
where your heart died
where your soul died
where your humanity died
where your sanity died
where you murdered God
where you murdered death
where you became what you are
where you became what you are not
when exactly was it that you forgot
to clean the festering wound,
scalp away the rot of living in fear
keeping it close, always near
a glimpse into the abyss 
a wink right back
we're losing track of sanity
nothing unusual here - there
there there
we're almost finished
are we?

should we give up
they say ignorance is bliss
why prove them wrong?
one more time, ring the gong
ding ding dong
who was it that hung
the jester from the tree
the sense in thee
it seems there's none left for us
all we have left is a cuss
fucking cunt fucking cunt
grunt until you can 
while you eat the can
of beans and fart all night
we'll be alright, right?
wrong!
smoke that bong yo, sniff that line
bring back the divine
love of a symmetrical god
waltzing troglodytes dressed in suits
as the orchestra of harpies play
on the instruments of pleasure
without a measure of time
here we go again
to a wonderfully depraved
deranged place, chaotically arranged
to reorganize some neurons
into neutron stars that explode
kilonova, ela' pame
sideways into the tiny hole
that turns everything upside down
where we thrive, where we dive
into a car that we drive into a pole
the North Pole and the aurora borealis
guides our hands as we paint
everything backwards to the stain
that fucking stain
which no longer exists
it does, it always will
if it's not a comma, it's a dot
if it's not a dot, it's a dash
if it's not a dash, it's a rash
an itch you can't scratch away
always there, in the back of our mind
willfully ignored, adored
one or the other
both at the same time
isn't it a crime?
what?
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