Facades Withering All the While

Implosions of emotion
ricochet in this vessel.
Pain, the cargo stowed below.
Landmines left behind
float among scarred self-regard.
A native on the high seas
in search of vivid jeopardy.
Now steering close to shore.
Seeking beacons of wisdom
behind facades of faith,
no captain at the helm.
No choice but to drop anchor.
At the instance
of a single struck nerve.
It’s second nature to craft
a mood to shape the mask.
Soon I discover the fact
they’re all that’s left of me.
Sarcasm mans the wheel
while skeletons from my closet
serve as the crew.
No patterns prove
to match the wit
of the wind filling my sails.
they run taut and smooth.
Up in the crows nest
another joust won
against mock authenticity
I break a rapturous smile,
this hardy vessel and my crew.
One thing never goes out of style
Hauling baggage rarely claimed
and facades withering all the while.

