Masks

I'll wake up early in the morning, still restless, still exhausted
My teeth will feel like rust and my bones like wet bricks
The amnesia will be temporary, long enough to feel like my home is foreign
but bref enough to snap me back into reality
I'll get off the bed with brisk, learned speed and make my way to the bathroom.
The prepping starts in the mirror
I'll look at my sleep ravaged face with disappointment
and weep with insecurities before washing them off with water
burning myself with cleansing streams
the face I see will be the truth
it will not suffice
ineffective at keeping questions at bay
my face attracts accusations and queries like so many ants to waterfalls of sugar
no questions need be asked
causes for concern need not be mentioned
insight into the mental factory is not mandatory and your press pass in not present
this face must go, but not through knife or scruple or fire or writhing from my hands
this face must be concealed
So, I take my hand, motion my palm down my face and edit the truth
Oh, hello! Pleasure to see you.
the facade stains me, remove it
back to the shallow waters
the reality is too bitter, cover it
Ah! Good morning, how have you been?
the clever ruse falls off
the sagging man behind the curtain revealed
I pause for breath, repeat the process
No exaggeration, stillness in my disguise
It fits.