The toxic fluorescent lights spark on
A sickly circus tune plays
One that makes you nauseate once it gently strokes your ear drum
It brings back old dead memories
That lingers like a cold shaking from a ghost.
The old dusty lights begin to move in simple figure eights
Rust cracks off the hinges as you see projections of spider webs from its former inhabitants
The lights move slowly at first
As if they have spent eternity sleeping and have just awoke
Only to find they are aged and they can’t move their bones
Different lights pollute the stagnant air with sick unnatural fantasy colors
The ground is made of dust and half-decayed dreams
Cotton candy and lollipops are strewn around
Laying
Painfully decomposing
As if every molecule that was begin disintegrated was a painful as a familiar stab in the neck
The seats surround the circular stage so you could be criticized from all angles
They sat discontented
With layers of dust and age on and in them
Some seats could not help but give up
And collapsed into the mold and fungus of an old soda
Which was Carelessly spilled on the floor years before
The cement stairs were slick
As if the stickiness of the candy that once occupied it aged and died
The old lion’s cages housed nothing but mice and independence
While one could run in and out the other stayed at the lead bars crying, weeping, dying,
Looking for more, as it starves and begins to consume itself before it collapses into generisicm
The ladder leading to the tightrope is moist and slimy,
As if it is challenging your life before you even reach the top
Cold skin touches the surface of the ladder and shivers
The ladder grins
With every slip comes a small chuckle from the core of the railing of the ladder
Which is metal and hollow
The body reaches the top
Its eyes are green on the rims…
Its decaying from the inside
It takes a look down
…
I look back up
Ghosts of my ambitions, dreams, inspiration are occupying the seats in the audience
I stand up at the end of the rope
I am bare
They laugh
Eager to please
I take a step on the unsteady fraying rope
It will brake if I place all my weight on
I look back up at my audience
Still eager to please
They are laughing uncontrollably
Just before I jump.
-E Marie
The toxic fluorescent lights spark on
A sickly circus tune plays
One that makes you nauseate once it gently strokes your ear drum
It brings back old dead memories
That lingers like a cold shaking from a ghost.
The old dusty lights begin to move in simple figure eights
Rust cracks off the hinges as you see projections of spider webs from its former inhabitants
The lights move slowly at first
As if they have spent eternity sleeping and have just awoke
Only to find they are aged and they can’t move their bones
Different lights pollute the stagnant air with sick unnatural fantasy colors
The ground is made of dust and half-decayed dreams
Cotton candy and lollipops are strewn around
Laying
Painfully decomposing
As if every molecule that was begin disintegrated was a painful as a familiar stab in the neck
The seats surround the circular stage so you could be criticized from all angles
They sat discontented
With layers of dust and age on and in them
Some seats could not help but give up
And collapsed into the mold and fungus of an old soda
Which was Carelessly spilled on the floor years before
The cement stairs were slick
As if the stickiness of the candy that once occupied it aged and died
The old lion’s cages housed nothing but mice and independence
While one could run in and out the other stayed at the lead bars crying, weeping, dying,
Looking for more, as it starves and begins to consume itself before it collapses into generisicm
The ladder leading to the tightrope is moist and slimy,
As if it is challenging your life before you even reach the top
Cold skin touches the surface of the ladder and shivers
The ladder grins
With every slip comes a small chuckle from the core of the railing of the ladder
Which is metal and hollow
The body reaches the top
Its eyes are green on the rims…
Its decaying from the inside
It takes a look down
…
I look back up
Ghosts of my ambitions, dreams, inspiration are occupying the seats in the audience
I stand up at the end of the rope
I am bare
They laugh
Eager to please
I take a step on the unsteady fraying rope
It will brake if I place all my weight on
I look back up at my audience
Still eager to please
They are laughing uncontrollably
Just before I jump.
-E Marie