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themselves - another part of the clown's brain كلمات الأغنية

[doseone]
i am the wizard, the (hush) awkward hawk-eyed wizard
whose melancholy state of stubborn shows him the hard place
up close and conjures a lucid quandary
the dreamiest paranoia
where’s the rock, the rock, i wanna fix the rock
talk it into being my pal
better yet, my indolent solid-stood apprentice
but thanks, but no thanks but, there is no rock

just me, in my gloomy hand-carved hard place
no student, no new chew toy for my bootleg
hug and kiss to tear into ribbons
worst of all, all my fuss and careful obsessing
frivolous
it gets painted over with lacking and stuffed grotesque missing
now fruitless
i set meticulously sharpened traps for bugs
with ferocious little mechanized insect-crippling jaws
and throw away my junior wizard cap and wand
these pupils will be thinner and hopefully
cephalopods

(there’s nothing, nothing…)

now, i can smile at the cut-out moon
and pretend hardcore, it’s comical and made of cardboard
in a while, i scamper in it’s film about my quarters
collecting all the intricate sprung death bundles
and free the teeny-weeny thingamajiggers dropping them in their
bruised-seeping abdomen’s in a jar
one by…..

(have you seen them? have you seen them around?
i’ve heard them whispering in the dark somewhere between the floorboards
and creeping in the house)

a cloudy gl-ss jar of sour miracles…
it’s elliptical and made of guts
resonance collected, i tip-toe through wild guesses and wide eyes
dipping, i hope it’s cute, dipping my hairy knuckles and minced cuticles
into the open jar, seconds later…later…aletrlatetr
a firm pinch invigorates the dying tensed writhing critter
wriggle, wriggles
i would like to look down it’s throat
but it only snaps and hisses at my innocent cruelty..
bad, beasty, bad!
so be it, it’s rectangular and made of ash

(i’m just looking for a friend
i’m not looking for someone to break)

i lean back into the dim bazaar of my worksp-ce
my neat and straightened worksp-ce
to…to…seem just…to seem…to…
as i suck its thickened pearly stomachs
from a throbbing in-caving thorax…
i just can’t seem to study
taught in this poor reader’s paradise
in these uncomfortably queer sandals
a sign, lost appet-te, i lean aside
leaning further, a yawn
leaning further back
crack a pointless pencil in my only pocket with no holes
snaps in two, and pokes my skinny leg
kinda reminds me of lightning

i don’t believe in zeus
but i’m scared stiff of clowns
look, i’m naked…a wizard, and surely mad..

i don’t believe in zeus
but i’m scared stiff of clowns
look, i’m naked…a wizard, and nearly happy..

it’s circular and made of seasons
pretty, ugly, pretty, ugly, pretty
pacing from desk to sill
i turn my mirrors off and on and on and..
then make believe the wolves are telling me it’s midnight
except it’s just the last few hours howling
night, night, i know my desk hates me
and so do the traps, jars, nervous ticks and loudmouth pointless pencils
it’s okay, alright, because, cause
i’m gonna write and write and
marry all its cracks, chips and knots
get them really pregnant
then leave with its friend the chair and all my stationery

(no, go, no…)

yum, a breeze, carry me
i feel like the other sun
the riddles, blend in with the stars
in with the crickets, tucked in the middle of somewhere
chirping madly, i’ll be happier alone
naked, where no-one can ever find the crickets
hush……

- themselves

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