The Mask protects
Keeps us safe. Me and Them.
Me from being discovered
Allowing me remote normality
Keeping them assured of it
It serves all of us
When I come home
I hang the Mask on the wall
paint howl sing dance run rhyme
As I leave, I again take the Mask
Old comfortable garment with new colors
tread the streets
Eyes glittering through the holes in the Mask.
With my brush as my key
I open the oak door
to a magic world
where strawberries still taste
sweet and wild
and colors are so real they can be felt
I paint my world alive and remember!
who I am behind the mask
what is real
and that joy is the only truth.
I am watching the car lights disappear.
These days I know nothing. I write trivial stuff.
These days I sit down my fears on the porch of my mind. We
sit and watch the weather change, some days we go
and get a blanket or two. Then we sit again.
These days there is a hunger around my heart. I write.
The hunger devours me. I mourn the death that is needed for new life.
I mourn that I looked at the railways with dark desire today.
This yearning is not meant to be soothed. I sit in my heart and understand.
I would rather close my eyes. I don’t.
I sit in my heart and understand.
Sanity turned out to be the old woman
with stinking breath and eyes of wonder.