Masks

Masks. Fingers, clawing at my face, slipping beneath the facade, tugging, tearing, flailing, stripping off the veneer, exposing the fragmented decay, cloaked, under this mask I wear today. Hands, groping for another layer, embroidered on my thin skin, peeling, rotting, searing, shaving away the truths, entwined in a jagged kiss, revealing, the vacuum of an emotional abyss. Fleeing, from myself yet again, bound for nothingness, desolate, cold, empty, lost on barren pathways, bruising my heart as I tread, shuddering, at the horrors that lie ahead.