When the oars have holes.
I am tired of the show, the clown’s go round and round which one can hola loudest from the pits of desperation. You, always suggestive, that the wood work would peel back and cockroaches would appear, how very right you were. Am i truly such an oddity in this farcical of life? Perhaps I am, for often even you were blind to my truths. Nativity, I wear upon my sleeve in technicoloured stripes of audacity and I choke on the flaming screams of….Fans? I am tired of the circus, the clown’s are evil, knife juggling fuck heads all of them jumping aboard the boat that no-one steers ..Let them sail into oblivion using your charisma as oars.