Clownish, happiest when balancing on your hands, feet to the sky and moon-skulled. Have I drank too much from your cup? You're such a pale, gone child, born from the night sounds. Always weeping for the self-inflicted tortures of the windowpanes (never allowing themselves to blink or come into focus.) Always yelling unsolvable riddles at ravens in lieu of building scarecrows (who are never talkative, and you warm yourself at speech-fueled fires) She is the lunatic that lives in the sun baked electrical towers. Guarding the secret geometry of the old road, whispering the answers to unsolvable riddles in the language of Midnight Ghosts
moon-skulled, clownish
Inciting riots with a smile
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