Chaotic Perfection

Purple suit, green bowtie, yellow striped shirt,
Hung upon an intimidating, thin frame
Gloved hands stow away a gruesome history.
A wiry neck protrudes from the shirt collar.

The long angled scarred face. The sharp cheekbones.
A curling toothed grin reveals a row of rotting, cracked teeth.
Ghastly pale skin surrounding dark sunken eye sockets.
A pair of terrorising, vicious green eyes.

A forest of vibrant green hair in a neat mess,
Just beneath lies a thick white skull.
In it is the brain of a genius;
The mind within is deranged, psychopathic.

Despite this you are loved.
The charisma, the wit, the contagious maniacal laughter,
The mystery of your origin.
But most importantly.

The smile
The nerve-racking bearing of your teeth.
The final sight for most. A symbol for joy, used for despair.
Now that’s a killing joke Mr. J.