in the circle with
paint-raped face.
Always falling while
only seeming out
of control.
Creating funny patterns,
vast, funny patterns.
Everything is ordained.
He dreams in the
silent afterdark of
Pinocchio
laying under his
mother's skirts, hearing
only lies.
Everything draws together
in his dream. Those
who watch, they just
laugh and laugh until
they scream.
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