The decadence fades into realism
The absurdity of a smile
So confusing now pressed against glass
While spinning purple lights
Tear my eyes from wandering
and hateful.

Bitter, cold, expected, terrified I
wait to drift into the nightmares
that I know accompany the snows.
What to do to pass the time?

Am I awake?
A questioning glance tastes like honey now.
I'm told it's coffee with cigar.
Another pond I will inevitably cross
Once my composure is regained.

Offerings of stagnant puddles
May slake this empty melancholy,
Instead I cave into a craving
to exchange my profile
for one that's made for waiting.

Any mask will do if it's imbued
with soul, a toll to part the vain.
A collection started, and kept well guarded
By the stone that marks my grave