I see young old skin
Fearing to feel
Paint wearing thin
Truth in a ring-pull
Deliberate distraction does what it must to retract us from us
But none of this has stuck
The privileged pretend, the poor attend
And stringed ones will strive for their view of amends
So shoot off their judge wig as fast as they send it
Use humour to poke, laugh like a blanket
Lie between the meadow and the edge
And wink at clowns with the mask of death...