Whose duty today is it to make you laugh—?-! So many clowns out there, all for hire; blackmail out of boredom, easy to do, if you have the glue; what it takes; obsessed with receiving guilt, makes you feel good? Crowned by the hand of a clown: immortal icon, now a Goddess: what next: suicide? I, even I am, was made to understand the immortal beauty in a joker, fool, and entertainer; have pity on him; he is like a sad rage in a wheelchair! The relentless clown gazes far into the distance to marble eyes, eyes that will pay him tribute, with a laugh; one he thinks will last forever; he will have his Silent Orgy one way or another; he will be the Titan free, breath on glass, witch-fire, that's all he has to chew over: slave to the Tomb.

Sail on, sail your mirage as far as it will go, love will never hear your moan, deep in the domain of your painful soul, your shadow will not let it go. At O'clock in the morning, alone at last, no sound to be heard, you will find silence for a few hours, the last; you are allowed to refresh yourself, with a horrible cup of life! Vile actions led to committed behavior, misdeeds the same. Disrespect against your own humanness, perfect clown, never to be bareheaded, or redeemed. The wise have other visions. Life is brief, and vanities are deep, ponder on shadow, ponder on—bark and let go! And taste life before oblivion gets you.

#1171 2/6/2006