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Such an arrogantly sized nose, such swinging jowels, all so cleverly hidden with sidelong glances and striped stockings. Clever indeed, because that's important to a poet, isn't it? But cleverness doesn't count for much when its yeildings have twisted themselves in such abstraction that it's no longer attatched to anything but a purple, puss swelled ego. And so poet becomes bloated clown skillfully juggling flaming sticks but catching them on their wrong ends. Stupid, but powerful in its draw for attention. No one is amused for long though, just put off and sticking around for lack of a place to go, except of course, for children. Everyone knows that the clown draws his novelty from the attention from children, otherwise he would just be a fool in a purple costume mutilating himself to feed his own need for glorious attention. At least, that is how he is seen by those who don't pity his freakishness, and who aren't attatched to his circus.
It must feel very brave to be such a sovereign soul, to run around butting like a three headed goat; using your freakishness as weapon against everyone who could have loved you. Particularly since you're dragging that poor child behind you, manipulating her pain as well as feeding off of her affection.
Although all of this begs a certain question: is it really so brave and intelligent of you to have single handedly metamorphosed into such an abstract, clever, novel creature if all you can do is shoot barbs faggishly veiled as some kind of abstract uniqueness at some people while the rest don't realize and then go and feel the swellness of it on your own? It was a good alternative after you failed at making anything of your life for lack of care or responsibility. We know you don't have much faith in yourself, afterall what is that thing you said to me that November? "At first I wanted to be Justin with you, and then I realized that I wanted to be you. And now I have your best friend so I'm getting closer." It seems that you lacked a certain strength of charachter to be anything that wasn't a mask of someone else. but we've left that time and place a while ago and look back to see you acting like a mime in his glass box. Wow, jason, you must really be some nut.
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