Friday, November 11, 2011

Circus of Fleas

Circus of Fleas

I have filthy hands and nails from digging through out the shit of existence.
My fault and problem,
My disorder,
My ever-searching mind.
The truth is out, yet know one cares.
The truth is out, but the leash of control keeps laughing, 
Knowing I see through it, and who it is.
Knowing my circles and screams mean nothing to a world of fools.
And so I no longer worry about the Dog,
I just wonder about its’ fleas.
7/2002

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