I juggle books like the clown I am;
A chapter of this, a passage of that,
The words touch my eyes but refuse to go deeper,
Recoiling at my brain.
I juggle hobbies like the clown I am;
games new to me already old hat,
A stack of projects that project failure
Again and again.
I juggle my life like the clown that I am:
Work, sleep, eat, no time to chat
My relationships and communication skills
Continue to wane.
My life is a circus, in that which I am
A clown of no merit whose mind acrobat
Has missed the trapeze entirely.
It's already slain.
Dec 6, 2025
Dec 6, 2025 at 6:00 PM UTC
I juggle books like the clown I am;
A chapter of this, a passage of that,
The words touch my eyes but refuse to go deeper,
Recoiling at my brain.
I juggle hobbies like the clown I am;
games new to me already old hat,
A stack of projects that project failure
Again and again.
I juggle my life like the clown that I am:
Work, sleep, eat, no time to chat
My relationships and communication skills
Continue to wane.
My life is a circus, in that which I am
A clown of no merit whose mind acrobat
Has missed the trapeze entirely.
It's already slain.
A quick little braindump before bed. I will try to make a wind-down poem a nightly ritual, yet like the clown that I am, I can't exactly keep with a schedule or routine. I'm lucky I even remembered my medication this morning.