Clowns Scare Me -------------------------------------------
A haze of smoke, to fill my head.
These things of dose are better left dead.
Conceal your shoulder big is boulder.
I have said the rain, it surely tames.
Thrice is the rhythm, of coldest belief.
It comes on odd and in disbelief. If I could tame
my dread with fame. I would pull one over, the
sheets of daze. These things they bore me all around. These are the sheathes of familiar clowns.