11-29-11

Life is changing
in most mysterious ways.
These days full of
rife and confusion.
Sometimes I imagine
myself made completely of delusion.
My need for rhyme is maddening.
A mime wouldn't stand it.
He'd pack up that box and move right along.
Is Paris still full of the jesters and clowns?
Acrobats and performers
tumbling around.
Wondering aloud.
A shush and a whisper.
Mice scurried from the light
similar to what a cockroach might
do.

A phony.
A fake.
Slithering snake.
Down in the gutters,
slime-ing among the ooze.
But none of it is true.
A cackle echoed
against the walls.
Wet with
tepid stink.
So to think
about the day.