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Thcii - Blog Posts

rumograph
2 months ago
He turns killing himself into a running gag. At some point, it stops being funny and starts being sad. And at some point, it stops being sad, so he stops. And then he is just running gagged. His life is a fireball show & he lives it on an ace note and a few beers. He sleeps with the man who tends to the pickled punks, when he's in town, that is. They pretend they don't know any better, just for the thrill of it. He makes himself worse and worse until it loops back around to being amazing; he makes himself the happiest clown in Ireland. Most evenings he is found in his trailer with the stilt walkers; tonight he is drinking & drinking & making them laugh until they choke. To be a clown is to always be on the job (at least, he tells himself this to keep things going). They play cards and he ends the night with bleeding knuckles and 30 euros less in his wallet. Ends the night laying in bed missing the man from the freak show. Ends the night dreaming of jarred fetuses and wakes to the smell of formaldehyde. But the show must go on, and so must he. He takes some painkillers and paints his face like clockwork; he makes himself the happiest clown in Ireland.

thing for a story i am currently writing ! it won't be on here after ive finished the first part (too long, will be on substack, & just don't want to) but any poetry / short stuff will be on here :) hope you like my silly circus people

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writeblr writing poetry poem original poem clown spilled ink circus rumos poetry 15.03.2025 thcii the happiest clown in ireland
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