Rat

we all get stuck in the middle of the wonderweb
the circus falling on a cross-dressed rat
we tap we tap like rats like rats
we're all afraid to wash our hands in the ground
like our hands are the model from which we create our bounds
we have all missed the signals from the elder trees
traditions lost in a pot of leaves
glaring creates a movement of which we lock ourselves in hell
the judgements of those who know the secrets of living, held up their sleeves
the circus we hold inside our lips and breathe the tension of the heart
exploding in the dark like an uninjured soul meeting chaos