Porcelain Mask

November 2, 2011
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I am in the Sea of Strangers
Lost beneath their carnival blanca
Where every man is woman, and all old are young
Each adorned with a pallid, porcelain mask,
Perfectly clean, cut, and clear of all created perceptions.
Only the full, purple painted lips,
Peaking below the pointed nose,
Beneath the peculiar, hollow eyes,
Imply any human features.
In the masquerade,
Where all human diversity
Bleeds a pale red of conformity
And merges into a mantra of el mismo;
Bliss is abundant; for the longer distance
Makes the flaws impossible to find.
So stay, my friends,
Do not come closer
So that the fissures and cracks on my mask
Remain unseen, and your perception unsullied.
Go no further,
For surely, no definitely,
We will end damned, broken and lost.
If you venture closer; my skeletons will edge outside,
For they crave the faint breath of companionship
And lust for its warmth.
If released; they shall devour this bridge between us.
Cease blundering towards me,
For now you must surely see the imperfections;
The sliced crack above the brow,
Chipped, purple, chapped lips,
Faded, discolored eyes,
The upper-right white piece of the porcelain missing,
The sullied cheeks that rarely gleam –
You wrought this on yourself, coming closer,
Being different, kind –
Taking the pause in the parade to pay attention
And naively persist my person.
And now- oh, now – how my prediction came true!
The skeletons have devoured this connection,
The blood of friendship stained on their lips,
Our punishment; fulfilled.

Let us pretend this never happened,
And lock the skeletons away.
Placing back the porcelain mask
We enter the masquerade.

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