puellarina's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- tears of a clown. 2004-03-25 - 2:15 p.m. tears of a clown There you are squirming before me again, in your big grey place where nothing has form. Again and again, it comes from me, blooming at first on my white t-shirt, like a good sign, so sudden and natural and vibrant. It looks like hope until it grows. Until all I'm wearing is the color of truth, emptying itsself onto astro turf. No flowers will be born. The formless is not going to be anything. You looked so enticing, you looked so full of possibility. Here we are, as always. Grey and red, battling, never penetrating one another. You cannot negate me, I cannot make you grow. You thank me, oh, sweetie, oh dear, you are so wise you whet me with your tears. You try to kiss me but I am feeling like I felt when I was a little girl. When the clown asked me what my name is and I swallowed my lemon drop. It just sat there, so painful. My eyes got so big no words were possible. The clown, he never noticed. He pinched my cheeks and he wrapped a balloon around my head and he laughed. You think I'm immersed in my love for you. but this is no lemon drop. I'm so tired of being your fool. I'm so tired of trying to school you. A clown paints tears on his face. It's part of what he thinks will make the children laugh. those are the only kind of tears he ever shows. His nylon wig never grows. 11:06 a.m. - 2004-05-11 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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