Stalemate

Whenever we have one of those talks I wish I could shrink into my seat.

I wish I could tell you that I am not

happy

but I'm walking across the tightrope of your heart

keeping glass balls in the air

I'm prancing gaily like well-preened horses with plastic cherry feathers waving like obscene tumorous growths.

The act never ends I hide behind that clown painted face

you're perfect but kids nowadays don't go for the vanilla cones

At the end of the day I find myself in the circus of madness

as the fire-eater's flame flickers in anger

you can't help but realise that objectivity has no place in relationships