Just like tokens inside the pusher arcade game, added to be pushed, added to stagnate, added to move, and added to fall out.
I am waiting, what more to unveil?
Daunting noises hovering down the halls, its already 3AM, everyone’s awake.
Anticipating the crowd’s noise, it doesn’t hurt anymore, odd.
This is the usual crowd, I’ve seen one pulling the strings they attached, I’ve seen them pushing things they’re running away from.
An eye upsky glinted with delight, watching, luring in shadows lurking under the crowd, amidst the crowd.
One you cannot make something up.
A call, not from nowhere but from the noise, each were agitated, and the eye was pleased to recognize one.
Its time, raging fears of the clowns, behold as the eye passes through the hole of sky, they’re ticking.
If it laughed you know its nothing to ponder about but don’t be tempted, do not.
If it silenced, shed light through, run, you will realize there’s nothing to run about- maybe I am crazy, maybe we do.
The crowd noise was mute as hell, as if under the spell of cursed game of recognition, for every evident noise know that it wasn’t a noise, it’s a siren—run and close your doors fast, fall asleep fast.
There are no more much tomorrow, it will be the day of another tomorrow.
Those who knew catches hell under 3am, those who anticipates followed the hall of 3am, those who fall is holding 3am and those who denied was caged under 3am.
None of them missed the show of clownery but most of them stayed under the cage of clown under 3am.
It's not a crime to fall but it is a breaker to deny.
An eye up sky won’t tolerate the stiffness.
Its heavy, and time run clockwise to stop the stunts.
Those who knew feared the pleased eye yet rather face one than falling under the lip of clownery.
Posted on @deintywoodtales (dada on tumblr)
Deinty Woodtales © Amanda A.M, 2023