the rules of the big top
a cigarette burn scooped a chunk of skin out of me, pretty much.
i sat in their living room in a cloud of smoke that i would smell of later and, out of the chatter, the lamp's golden rings were reflected on my irises.
as such, it's like being a trapeze artist, minus the artist, because you don't know what the hell you're doing up there. but no matter how badly you screw up, the net below's always going to catch you anyway. but no person on the trapeze who knows what they're doing is concentrating on that, and you are, so when you let go and are at the zenith of your flight, suspended in a cloud of held breaths for one second above the earth, in your mind you still see yourself plummeting downwards as you stare into the screaming mouths of a hundred horrified spectators.
i sat in their living room in a cloud of smoke that i would smell of later and, out of the chatter, the lamp's golden rings were reflected on my irises.
as such, it's like being a trapeze artist, minus the artist, because you don't know what the hell you're doing up there. but no matter how badly you screw up, the net below's always going to catch you anyway. but no person on the trapeze who knows what they're doing is concentrating on that, and you are, so when you let go and are at the zenith of your flight, suspended in a cloud of held breaths for one second above the earth, in your mind you still see yourself plummeting downwards as you stare into the screaming mouths of a hundred horrified spectators.