The circus comes to town
And sometimes right to you
No matter what you do
The circus will pass through
Relying upon it
Not smart to do
Unless you wanna let
The circus consume you

Moving forward often means
Excommunication
From something or other
Or someone
Attached to an idea
Or habit
Worse often comes in disguise as better
The healthiest way
Is rarely the most exciting
Or the easiest

She leaves a part of who she is
Everywhere she goes
Her true face she shows
To everyone she knows

Bedrock that did not cover the roots
Otherwise impossible
Except in
You

Sheer boredom
For a start
And where it go could be off
Uninspired offerings
Of what use can they be?
Spark may come
With the attempt
Art loves effort
“Try”
Art says
See what comes of it
“Caress me”
Art says
“Dance upon my canvas
Please”
Art begs
I give it my most fervent attempt
And maybe sometimes
I do it justice  
Art

Your tendency to overshare
You call “keeping it real,”
But there’s plenty we don’t need to know
Like how on your bio
You mention your fetish for cold steel
Between your **** cheeks
And call yourself a gun freak
Which in your case
Is just another way
Of calling yourself a ****** geek

If I didn’t know better
I’d assume she wanted the pain
She keeps grabbing the hot ***
By anything but the handle
She uses her finger to put out the candle
Melted wax
Dries on her hands
Leaving it’s fake skin behind
And she picks it off
Complains about it
And repeats it every time
She wears flip flops in the snow
Complains her feet are cold
She refuses to freeze any leftovers
And ******* when they get mold
It’s hard to be around her
Her game is getting old
Her friends are looking at their hands
And thinking they should fold