I don't know if I can see this through
Lately I've been having seconds thoughts
Never had any regrets
But maybe this was a mistake
I don't know how many disappointments I can take

You just have the face of one of those people who look like they would cheat

A blemish
Purple and red
What went through your mind
At the time
As she ****** on you
And her lips touched your neck  
Was there panic or distress
Or where you so far gone
You didn't care she was attached to your neck
Where was the respect
And now this relationship is a mess
Still in recovery
Unable to move to the next step
How could you betray me
You shattered the trust
Just for one day
But hay  
Enjoy the memory
If that hickey
That wasn't given by me

Come join the unraveling circus
quite soon to be passing our way,
with the clowns in a clamor to twerk us -
line up as they lead us astray!

Arriving, the elephant trumpets
agendas of aberrant acts
while the donkeys drool, dunking their crumpets
and twirlers spin, twisting the facts.

The big top’s now open to breezes,
so pundits soar spreading their wings
to convince us to tread the trapezes,
for it's they who'll be pulling the strings.

The merry-go-round’s so amazing
(black horses bound, chasing the cart)
as the brass ring of change wanders wildly
till stealing straight back to the start.

The moldy old model of Ptolemy
(at the hub of this three ring domain)
mixes marvels of magic with alchemy
in the bowels of the mastodon’s brain.

Neglecting the gulls who’ll be eating
stale crumbs that have dropped from the plate,
the vain vulture of virtue’s oft tweeting  
of Circus Land once again great.

The tamer, adorned in fine trumpery
(pate garnished with fiery mane)
has endeavored to wall the ring's boundary,
keep millipede migrants in rein.

The dwarves and their antics are funny
while juggling to balance the books,
so the titans laugh, grappling the money
extracted by hook or by crooks.

The sideshows provide a composite
of fails of the frizzed billionaire,
some disclosing the bones in his closet
caught clutched in the arms of the bear.
    
From towers the trumpet is blowing
fake messages, fetid but full,
but as long as the cattle keep lowing,
he’ll hasten to serve them the bull.

The masses, persuaded to follow,
float foolishly into the fog
overwhelmed by the vapors they swallow,
choked up like the ruff-collared dog.

The snap of the whip as it whooshes
maintains the domains of the dupes
so the cats won’t escape to the bushes,
refusing to hop through the hoops.

With the promise to call out the cavalry,
the hearts of the crowds beat athrob
for in spite of their struggles and rivalry
the Don’s still controlling the mob.

Humbled Empress on *******’s hilarious,
parading her ***** and mules,
with her fabulous tales (mostly spurious)
wagging only the naive and fools.

Mounting ponies in circles, she rode 'em
through lobbies where influence crawls
with her claws clinging tight to the totem
while seals on the banks balanced *****.

Yes, the pack’s still pre-paid by the PAC men,
some wolfing their ways through the maze,
while fey fables are hawked by the packmen
who canvass our eyes with a glaze.

The pretender defender of females
is actu'ly one of the hawks;
secrets hidden in spills of her re-mails
means pillory, stuck in the stocks.

The swine in the central arenas
(immersed in the fat of the throne)
begin dancing like wee ballerinas
’fore pitching the proles a bare bone.

Jesters Cruzo and Bozo, while boozin'
(dealt cards which were ******* by the ****),
ruled “not winning the hand would be losin’
and need for an armed Minuteman.”

Well the ray gun's still loaded and toted
(the gall’ry forbidding all bans)
and the NRA gang’s become bloated
shooting **** in the face of the fans.

One day when the mad house has folded
and sawdust’s been wafted aside,
Human Race will be racing, remolded,
surmounting life’s hurdles in stride.

In our swap of spit
As we kissed
And our lips hit
You said you weren't contagious
But now I'm sick

It landed upon your arm
As if it was a branch to rest
But it tickled your flesh
And in your distress
You took its breath

Cheeks wet with,
Mascara tented tears,
She aimlessly puts one foot,
In front of the other.
Down a path unknown to her.
Seeing and feeling nothing,
Out beyond herself and,
His parting words still
Reverberating in her head.

She had thought herself
Hopelessly in love with him,
That he loved her in return.
He had said so often,
Yes granted, whispered
mostly in passion,
In the sweet hot darkness,
Of her bed.

He was everything she had
Ever longed for,
The answer to all her dreams,
She had given herself completely
Never one thought of regret.

He had painted such beautiful
pictures of all that lay ahead.
God knows he is a gifted talker,
Could no doubt charm,
Birds down off their perch.

She'd had boyfriends and lovers,
Yet never one like him.
She was hearing the footfalls
Of aging fast approaching,
Yet still just twenty-six.
By now most of her girlfriends
Were well married,
Some being mothers
Of long standing,
Homeowners and,
Driving a van.
Grown to adults,
Living in a grownup's world.

Dark thoughts started,
To invade her mind,
This was not the first time.

How might she do it,
End this pain?
She had no gun to do the thing.
A rope, a tree perhaps?
Maybe some pills would do the trick.
These thoughts again considered,
Only made her sick.

Why had she given him such power,
Over her mind, heart and soul?
Why had she been so silly,
To have swallowed his line of ****,
Lies that took over her very being.
With visions, that could never fit.

Then she began to laugh at the
words he'd used as explanation.
"Truly Dear Girl it's not you,
It's me, I just do not deserve you."

She then stopped,
And smiled,
"You *******,
At least that final line of yours,
Was the only true one,
You've ever spoken.
I know my worth,
I am too good for you!
And It's your loss,
You insufferable *****!"

She turned, lifted her head,
Straightened her shoulders
And walked purposely out,
Of the darkening forest.
Her smiling face still streaked
with trails of now dry mascara,
the light of hellfire in her lovely eyes.

Who is this person that I have become?
I used to be acute, radiant, true,
but now... I don't know who I am. I flit
between living and lying, feeling then
dying - there's no point in trying. When did
I change so much that I lost who I was
at the start? "What happened to you?", strangers
guise, their sad eyes looking through the disguise
I so pitifully tried to hide under.
Nothing works - my mind died along with the
happiness I used to know; when she died,
I died with her. The rapturous girl who
left along with the world and I was left
dying eternally in her wake.

Just take me -
                              take me home.
I guess I thought you might.
                              Despite everything,
I still hoped that you would save me,

                              yet you didn't.

Some people are born
With crystals in their eyes
And hope in their skies
Of blue and green watercolour dreams.

No such shimmering exists
In here. The glimmer
Of past wonder has long since
Been destroyed by fear of existing.

So maybe we can hide,
all the others meet
over on the better side.
Maybe all these chips in me
are just because we're tired.

So maybe we're out of time,
all our love, it fleets
over to the other side.
Maybe all these chips in me
are caused by our desire.

So maybe we have younger hours,
where we broke one day
yet never gave up to the cowards.
Maybe all these chips in me
were made by who we are.

Those three words;
hurt me, burn
me, know me.
Desolate delight. I
will burden you
with identity. I
will ache for
my divine shadows
to return. Yet
the clouds parted
and I saw
truth, some strange
recognition within, brought
by my thoughts.
"I know you."