07-05-2023, 09:49 AM
Solo Circus
The days linger
in a contest of thoughts
wanting outÂ
wanting back in.
I choke on small talk.
Vultures circle about
whose last acts of compassion
make love to the skies.
Yoked to a cross
I climb up to the trapeze.
This is my sentence
this is my prize.
The days linger
in a contest of thoughts
wanting outÂ
wanting back in.
I choke on small talk.
Vultures circle about
whose last acts of compassion
make love to the skies.
Yoked to a cross
I climb up to the trapeze.
This is my sentence
this is my prize.