She calls it "Soiree for the Somber"; where clowns dance and fools are golden. They speak often with their severed tongues and only on occasion do their hearts beat. I am there. Where she is. And soon our bodies will die of lonely deaths; funerals for coffins. Our minds are where masks go to cry, except there are no tears; only smiles. A museum, where there was once paradise, of drowning arts and melted portraits. Look at these walls and songs of diamond, here we pledge allegiance to the Play. I can feel the air is thickened, thickened with liquor; the atmosphere carries miscounted steps. Listen. Hear it. The noises in the night, the mourning of the sad. Here is where we pledge allegiance