D.I.D. Masquerade (competition poem)

Oh,
the morbid masquerades
of every thoughts asylum.
How truly enthralling
the dance of psychosis
must be, fluttering
just beyond stark eyelids.
With it's poignant,
haunting corridors echoing
from each and every
jackalope's sneering
laughter.

Oh,
the pallid, obscured faces
of medieval phantoms
bereaved a name.
Just as honest as
halved pints of gin
in that same
promiscuous harlequin
decor.
Complimented by
the jaded luminosity
of every feathered masks
hidden agenda.

Oh,
the grandeur musings
of godless (lawless) mascareri.
Directors of their own
antagonist amidst the
daunting horrors of
this ever tormented
state of mind.
Always painted with
false identities
in the same
resplendent abstract
as the conflicts of
welcomed, ignorant reason.

Oh,
the beloved masquerades
of every thoughts asylum.
How truly enthralling
the dance of psychosis
really is, fluttering
just beyond stark eyelids.
With it's poignant,
haunting corridors echoing
from each and every
jackalope's sneering
laughter.