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Jun 2019
Gloom rolled into town
like a caravan circus
vintage and ragged
rusty and golden
the metal tent reflected
a land before time
maybe from the old movies
when the elephants wore hats
still, and the women danced
long legged, **** and sweating
as their toes kicked up
leaving little to mystery.
The gloom has its trapeze highs
and it’s netted lows, a feeling
of falling through time,
through space, being caught
right before the big SPLAT.
The net between the gloom
and the bright lights
catches me like a spiders web,
totally and completely
but not enough to feel less lonely.
There is a tight rope of thought
instead of a train, in my brain,
i am constantly balancing,
a crowd of roaring people,
spitting people, animals
howling in the gloom
at me, laughing at me
throwing peanuts
at me
as i try to balance on the rope.
i really wanna go to the circus but not this circus this is a depression circus not a fun circus
Ed C
Written by
Ed C  22/NYC
(22/NYC)   
947
     Anna-Marie Rose, Fawn and Mark S
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