27 -

(9)
baked beans.
cheetos.
what's this clown up to?
it's medication time.
guarded messages from the front.
garbled messages from the rear.
watch out.
this could be a trick.
a trick of the trade.
they don't understand.
we are not supposed to be here.
every moment is strange to us.
we are a fluke of fate, or some such.
they don't know what the fuck.
they don't know that they don't know.
we know.
we have always known.
knowing without knowing.
11:11
we live with secret understanding.
and now the animals are out of their cages.
roaming about searching for those who would be their victims.
everywhere.
now? - hasn't it always been?
yes, of course.
we don't know cuz we don't wanna know.
we just worship heroes of the day going by into another.
there is just war among us.
the clown lights another cigarette.
he knows there's little point to any of this nonsense.
but that's the point, isn't it?
more bad news every day.
good and evil are both the same in reflection of one another.
power above all.
the rest are reduced to a mob with their heads cut off.
anything goes.
the machine keeps chugging along.
he just dunno what the fuck.
he thinks he probably should know for certain like many others proudly claim to, but he don't.
that may or may not prove to be a problem.
he eats a snickers.

the next day -
the clown feels disconnected - he is disconnected.
jagged edged.
somnambulant.
living death.
21st century schizoid.
all that jazz.
but no worries - he's built for times like this.
so much differently the same.
to keep your balance through thick and thin, etc.
balance out of balance.
gyroscopic spin, baby, spin.
on a tightwire high above the twinkling stars.
whoa - hang on!
chop wood, carry water.
on and on like that and then some.
more coffee, another toke, another cigarette.
it's medication time.
becoming distracted - lucid.
transfixed by eternity.
x-ray mind.
freedom and responsibility.