Quasi-

You were sitting before me on a table
jolly and bright like always
and telling me what I meant for you
(how relieved I was)
until
something cracked,
you stopped talking and let die
the five seconds old word
in the arms of that uneasy look
you shot into my face
the wrinkles over your eye-brows
your stiff unpursed lips
and it all got bleary and churned
(your magenta lip gloss)
just as I was waking up
to a lightning-beaten morning.

Unburdening

It was the sooty half of one friday
in a room full of Daisy Buchanans
clad in their lavish guise
on a par with those pinup girls
sporting their frilly frocks
and sardonic smiles.
At the dawn of a curious feat,
in the middle of that ego jungle
I could feel the air thick with sequins
and fragrant human meat.

I saw her at the corner of the hall
dancing in her Dionysian ways.
I said:
Succumb to me, unwind your inhibitions,
take me to the dungeons of your soul.
But I cannot see the pores of your face.
Are you hiding yourself in defense?
Is it the makeup you wear
or the star-studded Venetian mask
of piety, chastity or innocence?

Will you keep telling me your candid lies,
shower me with tailored gestures
and whet my appetite for more of your flesh?
Now may I strangle your slender neck, miss?
Or shall I die with your sultry truth
revealed to me on a sooty night like this?