The Rape of Masquerades

The aridity of the evening has come,

My ponderous and moody weariness is back,

It calls for retirement,

It calls to die back in sleep.


All my acquaintances and correspondences wait to come in flash,

Deciduous may be the people, and ephemeral the events,

Yet they are all there, in the baby psyche.


Some want to speak & the others want to shout,

Some are a front and most but a façade,

They want to sweep & they want to sway,

The veneer is what they want me to strip.


They will lie in the psyche,

Forever till eternity,

Till the masquerade is raped,

And the virgin verity does step down.


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