BEHIND THE MASK
I
am not young, nor old.
This game I will neither win, nor lose -
I
shall not call your bluff, yet you shall fold.
I
am neither in love nor out of it
Neither in hate nor gripped
without
I am not feared or fearful -
I have no substance and no
form.
I
have no heavy dark hair to fall on my brow
I have no brow for it
to fall on
I have no clear skin to scent with apricots and roses
-
I have no skin at all
No eyes to shine, my dear,
No feet
for you to trip and watch me fall.
I
have no heart, no spleen, no backbone and no brain.
I have no
bones, no ribcage and no breast
I have no feeling, thoughts,
sensation, and no pain.
Because I have no substance, see,
I
have no form for you to put to test.
I
have no emotional attachment to this place
I have no thought as to
what this place may be
I have no cuts to mark my way,
Faded
scars seeped into the skin,
Yet I have left no marks to help
remember me.
I
have no hands, no oval nails to glance at
No lips to kiss, no
smile to coax out
There is no me, here, let's be frank,
I have
no form, no smile, no frown,
No tongue to lick my lips, and I have
no teasing pout.
I
am merely chaos, bound in well-seeming forms,
The serious vanity
clung tight to the breast.
I am what I have always been -
The
anger you can call on,
The devil buried deep and only summoned at
your behest.
Do
not be frightened of me,
I beseech you.
I am not here - like
all the shadows, I shall melt away.
Do not be frightened for me,
let me teach you
Everything I know - and then you too shall find
the way.
I
have neither form nor substance.
No feelings or thoughts. I am the
embodiment of your anger, my dear,
All your uncertainties for you
to behold.
I shall not smile ruefully, I cannot weep or
mourn
Because I have no form or substance, darling,
Except what
I can wrest from you to make my own.
fin