Stop humoring me
If you don't really care,
Because I'm wasting my time --
Wasting my life,
And I can't afford any more breaks.
Anymore breaks and I'll shatter,
Don't you understand that?
I'm just trying to find a clear image
In this distorted blur;
I want a clear reflection
In this dark pool.
So, take off your mask,
Because I'm tired --
Exhausted -- from all these masquerades.
I just want to dance barefoot in the sand...
Do you want to dance barefoot in the sand?

There is a Frantic Masquerade, I've heard it said,
where masquers revel in moonlight in the dark city streets.
Their iron shoes burn a smouldering red
and compels them never end the song they sing with their feet.

There is a leather Curtain, made up of silence and shame.
They place upon each dancer's face as they waltz through the night.
They never share a longing gaze, never whisper a lover's name,
and as their souls lose their lustre, their iron shoes burn ever bright.

There is a lonely Ballroom of sad rain and cold concrete,
where masquers revel in terror at the symphony in their heads.
Their steps move ever faster, but their empty eyes never meet.
Hearts cold, they dance with hot feet, ere they're dead.

     There is a Frantic Masquerade, I've heard it said.
     Their icy hearts stave off passion's heat.
              They'll dance that way till the shoes burn through their head,
and only when the ice melts might their heart's dance be complete.

It was a Masquerade, she said: a place we could go to hide. I wasn't in fright of her. I had it all under control. She took me by the hand, softly, that cold summer morning. The confusion that surrounded us allowed us to see more clearly. We were both wearing horse masks, and she whinnied at me so eagerly. The apple tasted bitter, but when I licked her lips, I felt the sugary sweetness of saliva mixed with cake crumbs and wine. We flirted. We sang together. I saw her naked, twice. When she took off her clothes and threw her tights around my head, I couldn't see the flesh she flaunted to the rest of the room. She licked my chin, all the way up to the tip of my mask, lifting it from my skull with her tongue. When her song was sung, I wallowed in pity and doubt. Her father chased me from the balcony. I climbed faster than he and escaped with my life, barely. The walk through the mangrove was dusty, and spiders kept climbing down my back, spinning their threads along my spine. I contemplated my mirage in the rippling waters before taking the final steps into my doorway. Looking up, greeted by elephants, tigers, peacocks and pigs. They strangled me with their elixirs, and we danced with the moon until our legs abandoned us.

Baby-dolled eyes,
and glamor velvet
encircles
with a cruel femininity;

the darkest pin-up
of your
diamond-dazzled
dreams always takes
it up a notch!

It’s all burlesque
and whispers
when you come into her
world of mirrored
desire that
plays just behind
her lips;

that dances just behind
her rhinestone mask.

The vampiress of
merlot, cigarettes,
and lace
always remembers
her prey;
a black-widow’s
striptease, cold
and calculated.

Again, she delights
in the fact
that she has broken
another man
she invited
in to her ruthless
masquerade.

We paint ourselves everyday from head to toe
Being careful with what we paint
Because every stroke shows
For when the paint tips over
All secrets will spill out
And our deepest fear that we hide inside,
Is to let those secrets out

For the mess we have made
We will pay the price
These stains will be permanent for the rest of our life
Showing bits and pieces of what we hide inside
For you to judge us wrong for what we know is right
What makes you think you've lived our lives?

We know you're broken because
We can see the expression on your face
So will give you a second chance,
To fix your mistakes
But remember we won't always be here
So you need to find a way
To be strong, be brave, have courage, and have faith.

On the surface I am happy.
Its quite the masquerade
I'm the jolly friend, always smiling
To find a way
To veil my true feelings in a shroud of dismay
Because the surface is crumbling
Under the roars of self-hate

Behind this mask
You can't see
But its still there
Even if you can't believe

This black gown
And a black rose in my hand
This black mask
And a dark place where I stand

Here I call names
But you can't hear
Here I call for help
But you can't be here

Leave me alone with cannabis
In this incredible masquerade
No one ever listens
But I can see your skin colours fade

Everybody here thinks I'm perfect
They can't look inside
Everybody can't apprehend the laughter
Because they want it in concise ~

Ze kijkt op
Alleen haar ogen verraden
Dat niets is wat het lijkt
Dat van alle woorden die ze spreken
Alleen die ene haar bereikt

En ze huilt
Zonder snikken, zonder tranen
Maar met wanhoop in haar blik
Omdat tussen al die mensen
Eenzaamheid haar verstikt

En ze zwijgt
En met gebalde vuisten
Verbijt ze al de pijn
En vraagt zich af *** het
Zonder haar zou zijn

1
At night, liquid moonlight,
******* pools of delight
in his front yard garden,
he watches in silence
with his ******* his side
for long moments, like a
caged beast still wild at heart,
                  badly wanting
                  to break the bars
                  that restricts.

His hands involuntarily
caress her soft supple curves,
culminating the explorations
with a blood tasting kiss,
poetry to him is making love
the beast quickly leaves
his whole being becomes
soft like hot wax and starts to flow,
she receives his music through
his dancing fingers that speak
to her a refined language of love
then,
       a
               symphony
                                  rains...
rocked in a wave of pleasure
she sobs softly like the whisper of silk
he rushes towards her deep center
beyond the soft folds that yields
twists and in to her drains his wishes
she is full of love,
       enough to drown him in to its vortex.
      she bites him ******* his lips,
      like a big cat, she draws blood
      love in it's expressed cruelty wears a  masquerade
      he enjoys the topsy-turvy delight.
     2
Morning dawns hurriedly  in the planet of the apes,
he wears his mask, regular before daybreak
observing all necessary rituals, dance
he has become ready for his daily grind
a hack, a hatchet man, a ****, sometimes a crook
without even a wee bit of consciousness or conscience
his hatchet is his flute, he plays on as he walks.