Time runs down a waterfall
Accelerating at 9.81 meters/sec^2
There is no point in jumping ahead
We are all going to the same place
So let's enjoy this waterfall
Together

it begins with a single slice.
then you start to feel it,
the adrenaline.
the excitment.
you feel the desire,
you long for more.

after the longing comes
more longing,
longing for the feeling,
desire for the rush.
soon you give into
the temptation.

then the guilt sets in.
shame about the ****** lines
on your arms.
shame about the scars
then you remember.
the adrenaline.
the rush.

then it begins again...

under pressure.
under stress.
i ressist, have no regrets.
1000 problems,
1000 words,
1000 points.
anxiety, rush, depression
i have to rake this mess all alone

Handcuffed politely to the bedpost of his inspiration,
he is optimistic that this time the limits
of self-imposed constraint will be breached, if not brutalised entirely.
~
‘Don Quixote’ - a whimper of metaphor;
‘DoN QuiXoTE’ - a rush of chiming vowels;
’DON QUIXOTE’ - a panic of ecstatic prosody.
~
Ignoring his aching wrists
and with imagination unfettered,
he reaches for paper and pen, and begins.

The clown keeps a journal filled with his suicidal thoughts;
His face wet with paint and his hair soaked in dye,
he laughs to himself as he reads the words scribbled across the pages.
They crescendo like the build up of a joke -
splashes of ink blots suggest that his pen blew up before the punch-line.

He remembers a time when the earth was grey;
the morning dew seeped into everyone’s socks
and they walked around with heavy feet,
indifferent to the man beside him
walking on the bare flesh of his toes.
Then a stream of water dribbled out from the prank flower on his chest.

In a world so addicted to tragedy,
comedy is sublime,
like the nicotine rush from a cigarette.

Yet laughter is a bond so easily broken.
The white on his face can wipe away,
the lipstick can smear,
and the dye can fade.
But beneath all of that is a smile,
a smile that persists
because nothing is wrong
when the clowns come out.

Green leaves lay surprised
Hurried out so frostily–
With no chance to change!

I fell in love with
The sinless man,
But even he can
Still break my heart.

Sentences like daggers
Thrown mindlessly,
Likely unintentionally,
But still sharp nonetheless.

Intimate betrayal,
I’m overreacting,
Under reacting;
I’m done reacting.

You find pleasure
In others;
It’s not another,
But it isn’t me.

Wide open arms,
You run right past me;
You don’t touch me,
Not when you’re *****.

Sinless man exposing
His lust openly,
A lust not for me,
A sinless hurt.