smashed the chords,
and cymbals of their laughter,
drowning,
out the sound,
of choking and coughing,
while I was punched,
in the stomach,
as the clowns,
jesters,
and jokers,
around me,
gassed themselves,
clawing at their eyes,
painting their mouths,
it was all I could do,
not to stare at the paint splotch,
on the back of your neck,
and wonder.
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