low wattage bulbs
fog machine suspends
acrid halls, simulacra screams
refuse appearances
adorned skin in shadow
make a bemused expression:
for one's denial
a store bought persona
can't help but ponder
knowledge of unmade choices,
cheap and flimsy masquerades
did you decide I was to become
red: the devil's
warm ooze binding our hands?
a variety of not yet dead
abysmal unends
tittering in child's spite
hoard ghoulish courage,
demolish the other selves

florescent flicker oil stains
rainbow like Rorschach tests
all seen is exhale.
upon my body escape
infected wounds ripe with maggots
I am stuck here
do not tell me pity is
to evoke Pathos.
do I too crave sentiment,
failures to individual automobiles
glutted on slivers of hope?
virulent contagions saturated
gangrenous hearts, weeping
I whimper they are
caught in decrepit dreams
playing pretenders
never to grow fuzzy-fetid.
toss muddied worms on crisp sheets
give the ground a head start