The Jibe of the Joker

Without tears he could not breathe... For the fears were way too heavy a lump in his throat... With the tears flowing... He only felt more empty... Like the treasures cherished for months had been lost... Like his life had slowly ebbed away... Like hopes had seeped out...but this time not as words which he could keep in his pen... But as water that would dry.. And leave no trace come the morn.. He felt emptier than he had thought he could feel.. The marks on the wall when he had screamed and scratched searing the burning rage forever into his memory... They now screamed on his face...and he felt blank as if it was a different him who had cried... As if it were not his finger marks on the wall.. As if he din know that animal.. He was after all a docile and honourable man...
The feathers from the torn pillow smeared along the floor of his room... The laughter of the maniac still echoing from the walls... Between reverberating silences of memory... Are u hurting they asked... And then took him into their embrace.. And he let go into the laughter he couldn't control... Insanity was not a refuge... It was home...
Intelligence they said can take you only so far...you needed to be mad to be in the reckoning... And so he laughed... The joker... The scars... The joy... The laughter... The bliss of oblivion... He slept... Sleep was after all an insufferable justice in the eyes of time...
- Ashk

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