violence within
this silence
knowing what he
wants
the jester
juggles words
instead baffled
by the mind
portrait
painted
by someone
famous
convinced of
that at least
they have tried
to tie the hands
balancing high
only dreaming
of another fall
when the leaves
cover the green
of summer
hot under this hat
no one left to amuse
but himself and
a woman
down a dark
hallway
walking wanting
to run
no footing in
foolish shoes
not remembering
whose they are
where he is
becomes
irrelevant
at night
slinking back into his room
in his dreams
he runs
smokes rising
there again
waking too
early…
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