Below the feign

And maquillage,

My eyes ascend

To sobering floors,

Away the crowded

Artifice,

Away vermillion

Artifice,

Down copper coves

And taverns where

Afar the amber glass,

Where forlorn,

Grit is drawn

As a demon

Thrust from slurring

Facades and artifice,

Where veilings slip

And rouge descends

Where there,

All courtesy ends—

And my mask slips—