I Like To Call It Nighttime Brain:

I'm Kind Of Big On Performance In General. I Like The Sort Of Entertainment Where You Can Go In And Be Fully Immersed In It.

Wine Is Bottled Poetry, He Thinks.

Marco Moves To Close The Distance Between Them, Kissing Away Her Tears Before Catching Her Lip With His Own. As He Kisses Her, The Bonfire Glows Brighter. The Acrobats Catch The Light Perfectly As They Spin. The Entire Circus Sparkles, Dazzling Every Patron.

I Worry Hope Will Crush Me, The Way Love Has So Many Times Before. Are They So Different, Hope And Love? O & E In The Same Place, Half Of The Other In Each Word. Both Swimming In Unknowns. I’ve Been Through The Big Changes. These Ones Should Seem Easier In Comparison, I Should Be More Prepared, But They Don’t And I’m Not. Sometimes I Feel Like A Broken-wing Butterfly, Clinging To A Window Screen. Afraid To Let Go. Afraid To Stay. Wondering How Much Wing Is Enough To Fly.

At The Center, Where A Cuckoo Bird Would Live In A More Traditional Timepiece, Is The Juggler. Dressed In Harlequin Style With A Grey Mask, He Juggles Shiny Silver Balls That Correspond To Each Hour. As The Clock Chimes, Another Ball Joins The Rest Until At Midnight He Juggles Twelve Balls In A Complex Pattern. After Midnight The Clock Begins Once More To Fold In Upon Itself. The Face Lightens And The Clouds Return. The Number Of Juggled Balls Decreases Until The Juggler Himself Vanishes. By Noon It Is A Clock Again, And No Longer A Dream.