we fill the somewhat empty hallways with our broken carcass,
like a circus show we laugh like mad men
twirling in this unfathomable disorder.
dark circles around our eyes like orbs
that forever turn in the absence of the light.

mad men with blackened top hats and and starshaped
they are part of the skies decoration.
mad men and their lonely stars
mad men and their shining cars

this is the wasted dreamland
the place where dreams go up and flames and hover.
ashes, floating down like a disturbing snowy parade.
they float, they flutter, they fly.

ashes fall on long dark eyelashes that snap,
as if their teeth could swallow whole
all of theses circus people.

and here comes the last serenade.
when things go quite with a chaotic stop
mad men, mean men, take their cars home.
whoever you are, whoever i am
we must leave the dreamland masquerade
and swallow up our words that sting, that stung.
the masquerade.
UnusualAngel UnusualAngel
22-25, F
Feb 10, 2015