i'll never be a poet

circus

hello!

come to see the show?

why,

it's the most ridiculous, overbearing, glittering, over-the-top circus in town.

nobody is home

but me and my google home,

always listening but

never
getting what i say.

so i turn my face and thumbs

to the one hundred faceless glory holes

blather my foaming vomit lather over and out and over they're over it

i'm over it i'm so over it

i'm all over it - i'll clean myself up, i'll leave, take off the red squeaky nose and shelve it for another day when the glitter rain wells up and over again in my chipped cupped hands and

you get to see the most awfully long-drawn show scratched in chromatic noise, just one performer throwing its monkey-liver brain at shadow profiles