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at first she did not want to attend the party

          was not in the bright mood for heavenly guise

                     she was an honest soul and did not like masks


          fancy dress nonsense and the theme was Tarot

          she did not like Empresses with false garments

          felt like a Hermit hung from within a dark Tower

          how devious it would be if she dressed up as Sun


          sunstroke sunburn scorched skin desiccated cover

          blisters third degree burns and no ointment in sight

          blinded by darkness in an irony of a dark deprivation


she waited until the clock struck midnight

          went naked to offer her scars to the Fool

                      unveiled her tattoos for everyone to see


                      she would sit in a hidden corner for comfort

          tranquil from psychotropic self-medication

overdosed on delusion of dying contempt


eclipsed by sorrow she would be her own funeral wake


he had wanted to stay home just the same

          imbibe on lost pleasure and obvious gloom

                    enlightened by apocalyptic celestial doom


                     the meaning of life what a charade of the Devil

                     Death camouflaged as Justice on a broken scale

                     sycophantic Hierophant bewitched by false promise

                     how false if he joined the masquerade as the Moon


                    moon-blind moonstruck rays like suicidal incisions

                    craters deep as an empty vessel sunk by the sea

                    finger on trigger in a Chariot on cemetery grounds


he would expose himself without any outfit

          a customized non entity bared of any costumes

                    sip a bit of moonshine and turn a blind eye


                    he took a few pills as a token of sanity

          braced for cataclysmic abandonment 

would sit under cover of farcical front


as personified eulogy and sacred sacrificial offering

they were both watching their own stagnant procession

and yet just one un-orchestrated glance broke the spell

beauty escaped from two shells of mysterious shadows


and the Sun asked the Moon for a slow dance and kiss

bound together by a glimpse of loneliness and passion

they awoke not quite fully clothed for breakfast at dawn


25th May 2020
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