This mask is painted-
Lips and eyes, delicate but fractured
With little breaks and
spidery lines,
Like the fraying of my
dresses.

I can't remember what I
look like, anymore. The
roots showing beneath
this wig or the broken skin beneath this
porcelain

You say it's pretty. Say
I'm beautiful beneath
It's all an artifice,
Lying to save the truth I
cannot unleash

And your skin is
statuesque- perfect, and
your hinges don't creak
like mine,
And I wonder if they've
wired you up,
Finely tuned your
neurons, just like mine
So you can speak and
laugh without a mask
So you can act the part
of "fine"

So well, I find, I've fallen
in love,
Well so what, that
knowledge was just a
matter of finding
The right code to
program into.
A right set of Action and
Response

Can you even live with a
clockwork heart? With
tubes and chemicals as
veins.
Can you cry bitter,
Mercury tears?
Can your electrodes
spark, like mine?

I find this mask is so hard
to remove, and so easy
to wear,
That lately I've worn it to
sleep
I've begun to forget if I've
ever been without it,
before,
But it itches my skin raw,
and it chafes and sweats,
and I cry though
porcelain cannot weep.